Meet Me on the Battlefield
by curlybean
Summary: The Winchester family is fractured after Sam leaves for Stanford. This is the story of how they find time to heal while saving the world from the supernatural.
1. No Time For Rest

Meet Me on the Battlefield

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Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to the amazing Eric Kripke and the very fine people of Warner Brothers/The CW. I am merely playing in their sandbox. No copyright infringement intended.

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Chapter 1

No Time for Rest

* * *

Dean was tired. More tired than he could ever remember feeling, in fact. And it wasn't just a physical tiredness, but an all-consuming tiredness. Physical. Mental. Emotional. Psychological. Even spiritual, to whatever degree Dean Winchester could feel spirituality.

The exhaustion was so bone-deep that he ached with every breath he took. Even blinking his eyes felt like too much work, mostly because his eyes were scratchy and dry. His hands were shaky and his legs were barely supporting him. His heart pounded and his breaths were shallow and ragged. All in all, he figured he was as close to calling it quits as he had ever been in his life.

And he was alone. That was the worst part it all. Dean wasn't the type of man that needed a lot, but he needed his family and they had deserted him. They left him alone to pick up the pieces of his shattered life. His dad was off on a hunt somewhere, teaming up with other hunters instead of his own son. And Sammy… Sammy was off to find his own version of normality in Palo Alto, California. Dean had driven him to the bus stop six months ago, watching painfully as his brother turned his back on him and boarded the bus. Truth be told, up until that point Dean was sure that Sam would back out, that he would never actually turn away from his family. Apparently, he had been wrong. Sam waved to him as the bus pulled out of the lot and called him when he arrived in Palo Alto, but Dean hadn't heard from him since. Not that Dean hadn't called his little brother. He called at least once a week in the first few months, but Sam never answered. After that, he didn't try again.

When Dean returned from dropping Sam off, his father was gone, too, leaving behind a note saying that Caleb had called and needed his help in Utah. John Winchester's note also gave Dean instructions on what to do and for the first time in a long time, the note didn't end with "watch out for Sammy."

That first night on his own, Dean had gotten unbelievably drunk. He found the dirtiest bars in town and proceeded to drink until he could barely stand up straight. He knew his father would be pissed and his brother would be scared if they saw how drunk he was, but he didn't care. He only cared about killing the pain in his heart as quickly as he could.

By the end of the night, he had gotten into two separate fights, still able to hold his own despite the amount of beer he had taken in. A waitress from the last bar he was kicked out of offered to take him home and Dean let her, finding some distraction with the rather sweet and pretty young lady. But, when he woke up the next morning, the pain came rushing back in, more intense than ever.

Almost six months later and that pain was still just as present and overwhelming. Fortunately, he learned to control it somewhat through equal parts drinking and hunting. He did research on his own and found cases all over the country, making sure not to take any that were anywhere close to his brother. He couldn't trust himself to not go to Sammy, to check on him and make sure he was okay. He wanted to do that more than anything in the world, but Sammy didn't want him to. Maybe, it was more that Sammy didn't need him to. Whichever it was, Dean was determined to be a good big brother and give Sam what he wanted. It didn't matter that he felt like he was dying a little inside with every second that passed.

So, by throwing himself into whatever hunt he was on, Dean was distracted just enough to dull the pain to a level he could withstand. The latest hunt had taken him to a small town in Oregon where he was convinced a Rugaru was feasting on its residents. Three deaths in as many weeks called for aggressive action and Dean was ready.

* * *

What he wasn't ready for was coming face to face with his father. John Winchester had all but deserted his oldest son in the last few months, only contacting him when he had a job for Dean to do. They hadn't seen each other since the day that Sam left for college, so suddenly meeting up with him in the bathroom of a small café had thrown Dean for a loop.

"Dad? What are you doing here?" Dean asked after several long seconds of staring dumbly at his father.

"I'm on a hunt, Dean. What are _you_ doing here? More importantly, why aren't you in Georgia hunting that poltergeist?"

Dean's eyes shifted away from his father, knowing that he wouldn't be happy with his answer.

"Eyes up, Dean. And answer the question."

Looking up at his father, Dean took a deep breath before answering. "I ran into Martin back in Tennessee and he was heading that way. He said he would take care of it, so I came here."

"You had your orders, son," John growled. "Orders are to be followed."

"I know, Dad, but it was just a poltergeist. It doesn't take two hunters for that and he was already on his way down there."

"How did you find out about the rugaru?"

Dean looked offended at his dad's question. "I did some research," he answered. "I do know how to do that, you know?!"

"Yeah, well, you should've called me to let me know that you weren't going to follow my orders. I could have saved you a trip out here."

"You've already taken care of it?" Dean asked.

"No, but Caleb and I are on it. You're not needed."

With that, John pushed his way past Dean, angrily throwing open the door and walking out. Dean stood there for a long time before finally making his way after his father. Looking around the small café, he didn't see his father anywhere, but seconds later, he saw the man standing by his truck, talking to Caleb.

Walking out the door, he didn't miss the look his father threw his way. It didn't stop him, though. Walking over to where the two men were standing, Dean caught the eye of the other hunter.

"Deano!" Caleb yelled as he pulled the younger hunter into an embrace, thumping him heartily on the back. "What are you doing here? I thought you were headed to Georgia."

"He decided to disobey a direct order," John growled. "I guess he just does whatever he wants now."

"It's not like that, Dad," Dean tried to explain.

John glared at his son before turning back to Caleb. "We don't have time for this crap. We're wasting daylight."

Caleb looked between the two men in complete confusion. "Are you hunting the same thing we are, kid? The rugaru?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "It's been wreaking havoc on this town."

"It sure has. There was another victim last night, actually. A young girl this time. We were just on our way over to talk to her parents. Want to tag along?"

"We don't need a tag-along, Caleb," John interjected. "This is a two man job."

"Well, I just thought since he's here…."

"Since he's here he can make himself useful by staying out of our way."

Dean and Caleb shared a look, neither one fully understanding what had John so upset. Dean knew that his father expected complete obedience, but he also knew that the man could understand why Dean made the decision he did. He wasn't a kid anymore and Dean wished that his dad could see that. He had no idea why there seemed to be such a barrier between them at the moment, but he hated it.

"Never mind, Caleb," Dean said. "You two go do your thing. I'll be on my way as soon as I fill up the Impala and get some food."

Without saying another word to his father, Dean turned and walked back to the small café.

* * *

After eating a greasy burger that settled somewhat uneasily on his stomach, Dean turned his attention to the piece of pie sitting in front of him. He also paid attention to the waitress that kept looking over his way, making sure to give her his best smile.

Eventually, the waitress made her way over to his table under the pretense of filling up his almost full glass of water.

"You're not from around here, are you?" she asked.

"How could you tell?" Dean asked with a flirty smile.

"Well, for starters, I know pretty much everyone in this little town. I've lived here all my life."

Dean wondered for a few seconds what it would be like to live in one place your whole life. Something about it sounded appealing, but it also sounded a little scary. Dean didn't really like the idea of people other than family knowing you all that well.

"I also would have remembered that face," she said with a laugh. "It would be impossible to forget. So, what brings you to these parts anyway?"

"I'm just driving through, I guess. But it seems like something is going on around here," Dean fished for information. "I saw a bunch of cop cars a few streets over. Know anything about that?"

"Well, if by a bunch you mean two, I heard that someone might have died over on Bell street last night. I haven't heard who it was yet, but I'm sure it's someone I know. There's been a lot of strange things happening here lately."

"What do you mean by strange?" Dean asked innocently.

"Well, last week there was an attack on two campers that were camped out by the river. Something mauled them. It was weird, though. It wasn't like a normal animal attack. It seemed more violent."

"That is weird. Do you think it's safe here, Rachel?" Dean asked as he looked at her nametag. "Maybe I should forget about ordering a second piece of pie."

Rachel slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "Of course, it's safe here."

"Okay, then….How about that second piece of pie?"

* * *

Dean was just about to drive off when his phone rang. Looking at the screen, he was surprised to see that it was Caleb calling.

"Dean?" Caleb said as soon as he answered. "Are you still in town?"

"Yeah, I was just about to leave."

"Don't leave yet. We need your help."

"What's going on?" Dean immediately asked.

"There's more than one rugaru," Caleb answered.

"Really? How did you figure that out?"

"Because there were two murders last night. In two different places at about the same time. I figure it will be better if there are three of us."

"What does my dad have to say about that?"

"He argued, but I won. What's going on between you two? He's been a bear these last few months."

"You'll have to ask him that question," Dean said. "I have no idea what's going on with him."

"Well, meet us down by the river at the boat launch in an hour. We need to get going on this."

"I'll be there."

* * *

Hunting with his father had always been one of Dean's favorite things to do, but this was different. John Winchester was a force to be reckoned with on a good day, but this was anything but a good day. The man was hostile to anyone and everyone around him, which unfortunately was just Dean at the moment.

Caleb had taken a trail up the river, while John and Dean followed one that snaked down the river. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two until Dean tried to get his father to talk.

"Dad, what's going on? Why are you so angry?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Dean," John growled.

"Well, I do," Dean growled back. "This is ridiculous and you know it!"

"Remember who you're talking to, son!" John nearly yelled.

"I know who I'm talking to! I'm just trying to figure out why you're so mad. Why you've been all but ignoring me for the last six months."

"We're not having this conversation. End of discussion."

"Everything always has to be on your terms, doesn't it?" Dean yelled. "Why can't you ever stop trying to control everyone around you and just act normal?!"

John turned so quickly on his son that he nearly fell. Dean stepped forward to stop the man from falling, but John knocked his offered hand to the side. "It would do you good, boy, to remember who's in charge here. We're not having this conversation here. And you will not talk to me that way!"

Dean took a step backwards, finally realizing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with his father. "Fine," he finally said. "Let's just get this job done so I can get out of your hair."

For a second, it looked like John might say something, but the moment passed. Instead, he turned his focus back to the trail and the search for the rugaru.

* * *

By the time the sun set, the trio of hunters had successfully tracked down and eliminated the two rugarus, but not without a few injuries. Dean had been solely responsible for saving Caleb's life when one of the rugarus snuck up behind him as he was tracking the other one. Dean wasted no time in shooting his flare gun into the rugaru's back, bringing it down to it's knees. Without wasting any time, he doused it with some gasoline and threw a match on it. Within a matter of minutes, the rugaru was nothing but a mass of burning skin and bones.

While he was doing that, though, he didn't realize that the other rugaru had looped around and flanked him. Just as Caleb was finding the strength to stand back up, Dean heard a sound behind him. Turning quickly, he found himself face to face with the rugaru. This particular one was rather big and Dean suddenly found himself being lifted into the air and thrown further than should have been possible. He couldn't help but cry out when he collided with a rather thick tree, feeling at least one of his ribs break in the process. He also cried out when the creature appeared in front of him again, this time sinking his teeth into his flesh. The rugaru was obviously aiming for Dean's throat, but he caved in on himself just in time for the bite to sink into his shoulder. Dean brought his legs up as much as he could and tried to push the rugaru away from him, but he barely moved him. Before he could come up with another plan, he heard the sound of his father's voice telling him to duck down. Dean immediately ducked as far down as he could just as John shot a flare into the rugaru's back. Sparks from the flare traveled down to Dean, but he quickly brushed them away before they could burn him. Within seconds, Caleb was at his side, pulling him out of harm's way while John finished off the rugaru.

* * *

Once both of the rugarus were disposed of, the three hunters made their way back to their vehicles. Dean was leaning heavily onto his dad who had yet to say a single word. Once they got back to their vehicles, John helped Dean into the passenger seat of the Impala before getting into the driver's seat. Without a word, he started up the car and drove off with Caleb following behind in the truck.

Dean didn't know where they were going and really didn't care at the moment. He was in so much pain and wanted nothing more than to lie down somewhere and never move again. His ribs hurt with every breath he took and the bite on his shoulder was burning like crazy. Eventually the car stopped and John helped his son into a motel room.

Without a word, John grabbed a first aid kit and started to work on his son. After cleaning and bandaging the shoulder wound, he wrapped Dean's ribs tightly, making it even harder for him to breathe deeply. Grabbing an antibiotic and a pain pill from the kit, John made Dean sit up and swallow them with some water. Afterwards, he helped Dean to lay back down, covering him with a thin blanket. Dean's eyes closed immediately and within a few minutes he was asleep.

John stared down at his son for a long time. He was so proud of the man that Dean was, but for some reason he found it too hard to let him know. Ever since his youngest son left, John didn't know how to act around his oldest. Part of him felt guilty for the way things ended with Sam, but another part of him felt angry at Dean for letting Sam leave. He knew that if Dean had asked Sam to stay, the boy would have. But, Dean didn't ask. Oh, the boy tried to talk Sam out of going multiple times, but he never came right out and asked him to stay. And because of that, John found it hard to look at Dean. He knew that wasn't fair, but he couldn't change it. He just wasn't strong enough, it seemed.

Eventually, he heard the sound of Caleb pulling up to the motel room. Looking down at his son again, he made a command decision to leave. He didn't think he had it in him to face Dean when he woke up, so he left a note for him, telling him where to go next and reminding him to take care of his injuries. After a brief argument with Caleb, who thought the man was being selfish and stupid, John stepped up into his truck and drove away, leaving Dean alone again.

* * *

Dean woke up almost six hours later to an empty motel room. It took him several minutes to get his bearing and to remember what had happened the previous night, most of it coming back to him when he realized how much pain he was in. At first, he assumed that his dad and Caleb had gone out to get breakfast for them, but after a quick look around the room, he realized that they had left.

Once again, Dean was alone. And so very tired. More tired than he could ever remember feeling.

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Author's note: This is my first foray into Supernatural fanfiction, so bear with me. I've only just recently started watching the show and now I'm completely obsessed with the Winchesters. I know John seems a little harsh in this one, but if I continue the story, thing will work out. I would love to hear what you think of the story and whether or not you think I should continue. Thanks so much for reading and (hopefully) reviewing.


	2. No Pillow For My Head

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 2

No Pillow For My Head

* * *

The next few days were hell for Dean. He spent another night in the seedy motel, nursing his sore ribs and somewhat bruised ego with alcohol and an occasional hour or two of sleep. By the time he left, he was desperate to get away from a room that only served to remind him of the fact that his dad hadn't stayed around. In fact, Dean couldn't even remember the two of them talking at all outside of whatever conversation had been necessary for John to take care of his wounds.

Once he made the decision to leave, Dean got into the Impala and just drove aimlessly. He stopped occasionally to fill up the tank or to grab a quick meal, but he never stopped longer than a few hours at the most. Some nights he slept in the Impala, struggling to keep warm when the nights grew cold. Other nights he rented a room, relishing the relative softness of the lumpy beds and the lukewarm water in the showers.

His days were filled with miles and miles of roads and classic rock. His nights were filled with nightmares and loneliness. He had to make himself eat enough to keep going, since his appetite had completely vanished. He also had to make himself sleep, even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. The nightmares were getting worse with each passing day and Dean didn't know how much more he could take.

One particularly bad nightmare seemed to be recurring more and more frequently and Dean often found himself waking up in a cold sweat, his heart pounding relentlessly and painfully in his chest. He couldn't seem to fully remember the nightmare, but he knew that it was about Sam.

The most recent one had been the worst one yet and Dean found himself reaching for his phone to call his little brother. Within seconds, though, he realized what he was doing and stopped. _Sam didn't need a call from his frantic, half-asleep big brother._

Knowing that he wouldn't be going to sleep anytime in the near future, Dean grabbed himself a beer, slouched down in the nearest chair, and turned on the small TV in the corner. Turning it to a local news station, Dean half-heartedly listened to the newscaster while he tried to forget the dream. Seconds later, he sat straight up in his chair, nearly dropping his beer in the process. The newscaster was reporting on a story of strange happenings near Palo Alto. Dean listened intently, before quickly checking the motel receipt on the table next to him. He quickly found the address of the motel, surprised to find that he was actually in California. _How had he not noticed that he was in California and was less than two hours away from Sam? How had he let that happen?_

Suddenly, Dean wanted nothing more than to see his little brother. Looking at his watch, he noticed that it was almost five o'clock in the morning. After a quick shower, he quickly loaded up the Impala and headed to Stanford, surprised by the feeling of peace that settled over him as he drove toward his brother.

* * *

Once Dean arrived in Palo Alto, he started to second guess his decision to see his brother. After not talking to Sam in so long, Dean wasn't sure that his brother would even want to see him. In fact, he thought it more likely that Sam _wouldn't_ want to see him at all. He would never admit it, but the fact that Sam didn't seem to need him anymore broke his heart. He had lived his whole life taking care of his little brother and even though there had been times that he resented having to do it, he missed it. He missed Sam. More than anything in the world, he missed his geeky, often times annoying as hell little brother.

After Sam left, Dean found himself floundering. _Who was he if he wasn't Sam's protector and defender?_ He had yet to figure that out, so he continuously felt as if he was still floundering and wandering aimlessly through life. Sure, he was a hunter. Sure, he spent his days saving people and hunting things. But, deep down, Dean knew that wasn't _who_ he was. The only definition of Dean Winchester that meant anything at all was that he was Sam's big brother. That's all that mattered.

And yet now Sam didn't seem to need him. He had moved on in his life as if Dean didn't matter at all anymore and that was a painful realization for Dean. _How was it possible to need someone so much who didn't need you back? How was that fair?_

But, if he knew anything completely, it was that life wasn't fair. Especially for Dean Winchester. No matter how hard he tried, life just continued to kick him in the face. First, with his mom dying. Then, with the childhood he had been handed, and finally with both Sam and his dad leaving him so effortlessly. Not for the first time, Dean wondered what it was about him that made everyone leave.

After making his way to the Stanford campus, Dean stopped to figure out what to do next. Part of him wanted to call Sam and tell him that he was there. Maybe Sam would offer to meet up somewhere, show him around the campus and introduce his big brother to all of his friends. Dean could imagine his brother's words even. _"Hey, guys…. This is Dean, the big brother I've been telling you about."_

Another part of him was afraid that Sam would be mad at him for showing up unannounced. He could imagine the pinched, angry look on his little brother's face. The look that always told Dean that he was disappointed or upset. _"What are you doing here, Dean?"_ he could imagine Sam saying with disdain. _"Why can't you just leave me alone?"_

The insecure part of Dean won out and he decided not to call Sam. Instead, he looked around for the university welcoming center, hoping to at least find out where he might find his brother. Maybe he would be satisfied if he could just see for himself that Sam was alright.

It wasn't hard to get the information he needed. The young girl manning the front desk seemed a little overwhelmed by the dazzling smile Dean sent her way and within minutes she was looking up Sam's information. By the time he left, Dean held Sam's schedule and the girl's phone number tightly in his hand.

It didn't take long to compare Sam's schedule to the campus map he found in a display somewhere, so Dean quickly made his way to where Sam's schedule said he should currently be. He barely noticed anything around him as he walked across the campus, intent on getting there before the class let out. Once he was in front of the building, he found an obscure place to sit. He doubted that Sam would see him, but he had a clear view of the door to the building, ensuring he would see his brother when he exited.

After waiting for what seemed like hours, Dean looked down at his watch to check the time. In fact, he had only been waiting for thirty-five minutes, but according to the schedule, the class should have gotten out five minutes before. Just as Dean was thinking about moving into the building to check things out, the door opened and a mass of students walked out. It only took a few seconds for Dean to find the lanky frame of his brother. The first thing he noticed was that Sam looked thinner than when he had left. He also noted that his normally shaggy haired little brother was in desperate need of a haircut. In fact, his hair was so long that it was hanging way past his shirt collar. The last thing Dean noticed was that his brother was surrounded by people who all seemed to be talking to him at the same time. Dean heard the unmistakable sound of Sam laughing and he felt like someone had driven a knife into his heart. _Oh, how he had missed that laugh_.

As the crowd of students moved along, Dean was able to hear a little of their conversation.

"I can't believe you aced that test, Sam," one kid said as rushed to keep up with Sam's long strides. "Everyone else barely passed!"

Sam shrugged his shoulders and Dean could tell he was embarrassed. Sam had never been one for being the center of attention and Dean knew it was most likely due to their father's edict of always keeping a low profile and never drawing undue attention to themselves. Of course, Dean didn't mind a healthy dose of attention, especially when it came from the opposite sex, but Sam was different.

As the crowd moved along, Dean noticed the look of relief that passed over Sam when the conversation moved away from his educational prowess. Dean watched as Sam allowed himself to fall back to the edge of the crowd, looking much more at ease once he was surrounded by less people. In fact, his little brother looked rather comfortable with the three other students that lagged behind with him.

Dean studied the three students closely. The young man was quite a bit shorter than Sam, but he looked comfortable walking next to him. They both were laughing at something one of the girls was saying and Dean was once more taken aback by the sound of Sam's carefree laughter.

The two girls were both pretty, Dean thought to himself, suddenly wondering if one of them was Sam's girlfriend. He immediately noticed how both of them seemed to be vying for Sam's attention, one in an overt, almost sensual way, while the other one was much more demure and subtle. The way Sam's eyes kept darting to the blonde-haired young lady made Dean realize that his brother liked her.

This realization, of course, made him shift his focus to her, feeling somewhat relieved that it wasn't the brunette girl that had caught Sam's interest. She was much too promiscuous for his little brother, in Dean's opinion.

It wasn't long before Dean had to come out of his hiding place to covertly follow his brother through the campus. There was a moment where Dean thought that Sam might have caught a glimpse of him, but he was quick to duck behind another throng of students. Once they were at the next building, Dean found himself another place to hide as he waited for Sam to re-emerge. He spent the rest of the day that way, following Sam furtively from class to class and then finally from the library to his apartment.

Dean was actually surprised to see that Sam was living in an apartment and not the dorms. He wondered how his brother could afford to do that, knowing that the dorms were a lot cheaper and more likely to be covered by any scholarships his brother had received. His question was answered an hour later when Sam left the apartment again. Dean followed his brother once again through the campus and was surprised to see him go through the back door of a small coffee shop across from the library. Watching through the window, Dean was surprised again to see Sam throw on an apron and a cap. He nearly laughed as he watched Sam step up to the counter to take an order. _Sam Winchester had a job._

* * *

Sam had been having a pretty good day until he turned around to say something to one of his friends and thought he saw his brother. He searched the area desperately, but whatever or whoever he saw was no longer there. The rest of the day, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Several times, he thought he could feel someone watching him, but whenever he looked around, he couldn't find anyone.

Sam had grown to trust his intuition on things like that through the years. While Dean was an instinctual hunter, Sam was much more intuitive by nature. Or maybe it was just that Sam was more in tune with his intuition. More trusting of it than his sometimes irrational brother.

Plus, he had always seemed to feel his brother whenever he was near. Dean had a presence about him that was almost palpable. Almost like his presence took up more space that anyone else's. Sam physically felt his brother's presence or absence on a level that even he didn't understand. He could remember a time that John had returned from a hunt with an unconscious Dean in his arms. Seeing his brother there on the bed had been confusing for the eleven year old he had been. He could physically see Dean, but he felt only a small part of his big brother's presence. It was like part of Dean was being blocked from him and he had been terrified. He could remember becoming frantic at the feeling, remember how he had nearly come unglued when Dean wouldn't wake up. John had had to physically hold Sam to keep him from hurting himself in his panic. It was a memory that Sam struggled to forget.

He spent the rest of the day looking over his shoulder, expecting to catch a glimpse of his brother out of the corner of his eye, but he never did. When he finally returned home that evening, he sat down to do homework, but found that he couldn't concentrate. Instead, he kept finding himself looking at his phone, trying to mount up the courage to call Dean. He never did.

* * *

Dean sat in his motel room, staring at his phone. Every bone in his body wanted to call Sam, but every instinct he had told him not to. He had seen for himself that his little brother was doing okay. Great, even. But he suddenly found himself missing the sound of his brother's voice. _Did he even remember what it sounded like?_

After almost an hour of picking his phone up and putting it down again, he gave in. Picking up the motel room phone instead of his cell phone, he quickly dialed Sam's number and waited with bated breath for him to answer. He hoped that Sam had forgotten their father's usual command to not answer unknown callers. Just once, he hoped that his brother didn't do what he was supposed to do.

After a few rings, Dean was just about to hang up when Sam answered.

"Hello?" Sam said uncertainly. Dean quietly let out the breath he was holding, keeping his hand over the mouthpiece so Sam wouldn't hear.

"Hello? Who is this?" Sam said. And then, "Dean? Is that you?"

Dean's heart pounded painfully in his chest as he listened to his brother's voice. After not getting an answer the second time, Sam hung up the phone, leaving the grating dial tone to echo in Dean's ear. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, gripping the phone tightly in his hand, for several long minutes before hanging it up and falling miserably back onto the bed.

 _He was just so tired_.

* * *

Author's note: Well, here's another chapter for you all. We almost had a Sam/Dean reunion in this one, but it's going to have to wait a little longer. I hope you all don't mind a little more angst. Thank you all so much for the reviews, follows, and favs. But, most of all, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy the chapter. And as always, I would love to hear your thoughts.


	3. Nowhere to Run From This

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 3

Nowhere to Run From This

* * *

 _Author's note: So, there seems to be a little confusion as to how long Sam was really away at college. In the pilot episode, Dean says that he hasn't spoken to Sam in nearly two years. In episode 1.03, he tells Sam that he spent "every day with Dad for two years, while you were going to pep rallies." In episode 1.07, Dean says "So this is how you spent four good years of your life, huh?"_

 _For the sake of this story, I'm going to go with the idea that Sam left for Stanford when he was 18 and canon events started four years later when he was 22. This means that there was a time in between where Sam and Dean could have had some interaction before they didn't talk for two years. Essentially, there was a time between Sam being 18-20 where they could have reunited for whatever reason. Then there was a time between Sam being 20-22 where they didn't talk. Does that make sense?_

* * *

Dean stayed in the Stanford area for almost two weeks, watching Sam go about the day to day life of a normal American college student. He was amazed to see the change in his little brother. Not only was Sam taller than when he left, he also seemed bigger, but not necessarily in a physical way. Sam's high school years had been nothing less than a complete mess for the boy. Whereas Dean never really cared about "fitting in" in high school, Sam did. He always hated being the new kid and no matter what he did, he never really fit in. While Dean's not fitting in was considered cool and made him more interesting to the students of whatever school they were in, Sam's not fitting in just usually made him the school freak.

But, now…. Now Sam seemed to be fitting in just fine. Although Dean could still see a bit of the typical Sam Winchester insulation, he also saw a new side to him. Sam was often surrounded by other students, who all seemed to bring out something different in him. Something that Dean thought he had been responsible for.

Through the last few years, the air between Sam and John Winchester had become thick and unbearable. When they weren't arguing over anything and everything, they were shutting each other out, leaving Dean to try to find some sort of conciliation for them. Sam always felt like he had no control over his own life and he balked at every decision John made. John, on the other hand, felt like he had no control over his own son and that just wasn't acceptable. Dean knew that his father was only doing what he thought best to protect his sons, but he could also understand where Sam was coming from.

Dean Winchester was meant to be a hunter. He felt it in his bones and with every fiber of his being. He didn't care about having a normal life, and in fact, the idea of normality was terrifying to him. There was always too much pressure on someone to live up to the normal standards of society. _No, it was much easier to not worry at all about what was considered normal._

Sam, on the other hand, was really _not_ meant to be a hunter. In Dean's opinion, he was meant for so much more than that, and Dean couldn't begrudge his little brother wanting out of the life. He didn't understand it, of course, but he understood. The part that was hard for Dean to digest, though, was the fact that Sam was an extraordinary hunter. _The boy was smart_. Sam's natural intuition and his ability to sift through pages and pages of information to find what he was looking for, sometimes picking up on the most obscure reference that anyone else would have missed, were both incredible assets for a hunter. He also had a sense of natural diplomacy that rivaled even the most seasoned politician's. Dean had known hunters three times his age that didn't have a tenth of the natural ability his little brother had.

But now it seemed like the Winchester family business had completely fallen apart. Now, it was only Dean and John that hunted. While Dean had been the glue that held the Winchester family together, Sam had been the heart of the family. Without the heart, the family couldn't survive.

* * *

Eventually, Dean realized that he couldn't just continue to follow his brother around day after day, forsaking all other responsibilities in his life, as he watched Sam interact so fully with everyone he met. Coming to a decision and once Sam was safe and sound back in his apartment, Dean returned to his motel, deciding to do some more research on the strange occurrences that had been plaguing an area not too far away from Palo Alto.

The next morning he visited the local library, hoping to find something that would point him in the right direction for his hunt. Reports of what Dean figured were ghost sightings were becoming increasingly more frequent around a lake just outside of San Francisco. Dean found very little information about the lake itself, but found several reports of strange events.

One report detailed how a group of kids drove up to the lake one night a few weeks before. As witnesses of the event detailed, they were driving in a caravan of cars around the lake when all four cars stalled at the exact same time. As they all got out of their cars to investigate, they reported a thick fog rolling over them and then the sounds of a woman crying. No one admitted to actually seeing anything other than the fog, but they all agreed that the sound of the woman crying echoed around them as if it came from all directions.

Another incident happened a week later. A young couple were sitting on the edge of the lake when a young lady dressed in white appeared in front of them, asking frantically if they had seen her baby. The couple immediately stood up to assist the woman in her search, but seconds later she disappeared into thin air.

The last event was the worst of all. A small group of friends had gathered at the lake to celebrate a birthday. They had been drinking and decided to go for a swim in the moonlit lake. All four were good swimmers, but one of them drowned that night. The police concluded that it was an accidental drowning due to intoxication, but the other three people all stated that they saw something come out of the lake and pull their friend underwater.

Dean spent the better part of two days trying to find out whatever he could about this supposed ghost. Eventually, he came upon a story of a young mother who had taken her baby on a walk around the lake. After a while, the young lady stopped to rest on a bench next to the lake, her baby sleeping soundly in the stroller next to her. While she was resting, another young woman sat down next to her and they started talking. While they talked, the stroller rolled away, unnoticed by either woman. Eventually, the young mother noticed that the stroller was missing and she frantically started searching for her baby. She ran around the area, asking everyone she came upon if they had seen her baby. Eventually, she thought to look in the lake itself. People around her watched as she walked into the lake, screaming her baby's name. She was never seen again.

Now, Dean was convinced that he was looking for a restless spirit. Normally, this sort of spirit was harmless, but the events of the last week meant differently. What started out as a few freaky things happening had evolved into someone actually dying. Dean knew he had to do something before someone else was hurt.

* * *

The next morning found Dean at the last place he wanted to be. His decision to follow up with the three people who had witnessed the ghost pulling their friend underwater led him to standing outside a college dorm at Stanford. Luckily, the dorm was nowhere near Sam's usual area of travel, but he knew he had to be careful. The last thing he wanted was to find himself face to face with his little brother.

Which is exactly what happened, of course.

Dean was happy to see that the dorm was actually a girl's sorority and that two of the three witnesses were sorority sisters. Stepping into the sorority house made him wish for the first time that he had gone to college himself. Of course, Sam would tell him that college was about much more than beautiful girls, but Dean would disagree.

Knocking on the door, Dean waited patiently for someone to answer. After explaining to the young lady who answered why he was there, Dean stepped into the house and found himself in a room full of beautiful faces. He, of course, knew the effect he had on most women, so he quickly turned on the full Dean Winchester charm and within seconds, several girls were at his side, smiling and laughing at something he said. After a few minutes of fun, Dean got down to business.

"I need to speak to Ashley Irving and Beth Dawson. Are they around?"

"Oh, poor Ashley and Beth. Did you hear what happened to them?" a pretty blonde asked him. "It's awful!"

"That's why I'm here," Dean answered. "My cousin was the one who died at the lake."

"Really?" a short brunette asked. "I didn't know Brady had any family. He always said he was all alone in the world."

"Well, we're third cousins, actually," Dean lied. "On my mother's side. I haven't seen him since I was 12."

"Oh. Well, it's just awful what happened to him. He was a good guy. He didn't deserve to go like that."

The blonde girl interrupted, much to Dean's relief. "Ashley and Beth haven't been out of their rooms at all since it happened. We've been taking food up to them, but I don't think either one of them has eaten anything."

"Do you think I could talk to them? I really need to know what happened."

"I'll go see if they're up for a visit," she answered. Dean watched as she bounced up the stairs, wondering again why he always thought college was a bad thing.

Fifteen minutes later, Dean found himself sitting on a desk chair, facing two very distraught looking girls. Ashley and Beth both stared at him from behind lanky hair and red-rimmed eyes. Both looked like they hadn't slept in days.

"I just wanted to hear from you what really happened," Dean explained after a few minutes of introductions and awkward conversation. "My family is looking for some closure on this, you know? And we don't really believe what the authorities are telling us. I mean, I know Brady wasn't an angel, but I don't think he was the type to get so drunk that he would drown himself."

Ashley and Beth shared a long look before turning back to Dean. "We _had_ been drinking that night," Beth started. "But, not a lot. Just a few beers over the course of several hours. And Brady was a good swimmer. He was on the swim team in high school, right?"

Beth hesitated long enough for her to lose her courage. Her eyes filled with tears, prompting Dean to grab her a Kleenex off the cluttered desk. "He was always a good swimmer," Dean agreed. He hated lying to these girls, acting like he actually knew Brady, but he did what he had to do. "So, can you tell me what really happened?" he prompted.

Ashley sat up a little straighter on the bed before answering. "It was weird," she started. "It was a beautiful night. The moon was so bright and the sky was so clear and you could see so many stars. The water was really cold, but we just decided to take a quick dip before going home. Brady was the first one in the water and he swam about twenty yards out. Beth didn't want to go into the water, but Shawn and I did. We swam about halfway to where Brady was when this fog suddenly rolled over the lake. Shawn and I stopped swimming because we were barely able to even see each other. Then, just as suddenly the fog disappeared. I mean it didn't just dissipate, it disappeared. Like it was never even there. When we looked at Brady, we saw something coming up behind him. I think Beth saw it first, because she started yelling at Brady. Shawn and I turned just in time to see something pulling Brady under water. We swam out to where he was and we looked for him, but we never found him."

By this time, both girls were in tears again. Dean waited several seconds before interrupting their tears. "What did you see?" he asked gently. "Beth? Ashley? What did you see?"

"It was a woman," Beth answered so quietly that Dean had to lean forward to hear her. "She just appeared there behind Brady after the fog disappeared. I could tell that Brady saw her, too, because he had this horrible look on his face. And then they just both went underwater."

"Did you hear either of them say anything?" he asked.

"She was crying," Ashley answered. "I could hear her crying."

* * *

Dean left about thirty minutes later, anxious to get out to the lake to check it out. He had no idea how he was going to take care of this ghost because her body had never been found. It was hard to salt and burn someone when there was no body to salt and burn.

Dean stopped at a gas station to fill up the Impala before leaving the Stanford campus. As the tank was filling up, he went inside to pay and to get a few supplies. After getting himself a few snacks, he quickly searched for some salt. He didn't figure he would find a big container of it, but he was sure that the little gas station market would have at least a little container. Minutes later, he found several small containers of salt and headed up to the cashier.

Just as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Dean? What are you doing here?"

Dean's stomach flipped at the sound of his brother's voice. Turning around, he found himself face to face with a confused looking Sam. Dean had to stop himself from grabbing Sam and hugging the hell out of him, especially when he figured out that Sam wasn't too happy to see him.

"What are you doing here, Dean?" Sam repeated. "And how long have you been here?"

"Hey, Sammy," Dean answered. Before he could continue, the cashier interrupted him.

"You're holding up the line, dude," the man said in an irritated voice.

Dean welcomed the short reprieve, trying to clear the sudden anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him. "Sorry," he said as he pulled out his money. "Here you go."

Once he was done paying for his stuff, Dean turned back to Sam and pulled him out of the line of impatient people. Sam just stared at Dean.

"Sammy, it's not what you think…." Dean started.

"So you're not here to check up on me?" Sam asked, irritation clearly present in his voice.

"No…. well….I mean…."

"What are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked for the third time.

Now it was Dean's turn to be irritated. "Damn it, Sammy! Stop asking me that!"

"I will when you answer the question!" Sam growled.

Dean reached into his bag and pulled out a container of salt. "I'm working a case, if you must know."

"A case of what?" Sam asked. "The world's smallest ghost? That container of salt isn't enough to salt and burn anything, Dean."

Dean smiled goofily at his little brother, stepping back into his cocky older brother routine. Suddenly, he noticed a group of people that were staring at them from the corner of the store.

One of the girls…the blonde girl that was with Sam a lot, finally spoke. "Sam? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine, Jess. Just give me a minute, okay?"

The group stayed where they were as Sam followed Dean out the door and over to the Impala. Dean made a show of unlocking the door and putting down his bag of goods before turning back to his brother. "How are you, Sam?" he asked, unable to stop his voice from sounding sappy and sentimental. _God, how he hated chick flick moments_.

"I'm good," Sam answered. "I'm really good, in fact."

Dean shot a look over to Sam's friends who were all watching them closely. "I can see that. Who's the hot girl, dude? Your girlfriend?"

"Just a friend," Sam immediately answered.

"Oh, okay. Well, if she's single…."

"Knock it off, Dean," Sam said angrily. "Why are you here?"

"Come on, Sammy. Why are you so angry? Aren't you glad to see me?" Dean asked, sounding and looking like a wounded puppy.

Sam's face immediately softened. "Of course, I am, Dean."

"Does that mean you miss me?"

"What do you think, idiot," Sam said. "Of course, I miss you!"

"Well, then, why are you mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you, Dean," Sam tried to explain. "I just…. Well, if you're here then that means Dad's here, too, and I'm just not ready to face him. That's all."

"Dad's not here, Sam. And he doesn't know where I am, either, just so you know."

"What? You ran away?"

"Dude, I'm almost 24. I didn't run away. I just told Dad I was going on a little trip, that's all."

"And he just let you go? Just like that?"

"Sam, he knows I'm not a kid anymore."

"I doubt that. In his eyes, we'll always be kids."

"You're probably right," Dean agreed. "But, I just told him I needed a break from hunting and I set off on a little road trip. I'm tired, Sammy."

Sam didn't look like he completely believed his brother. "As if you've ever needed a break from hunting, Dean," Sam laughed. "You're never one to run away from anything."

Dean just smiled and laughed along with his brother. If Sam knew the truth about how things were with their dad at the moment, he would understand a bit better why Dean was so tired and why he really did feel like running away sometimes. Even though, deep down inside, Dean knew there was nowhere to run anyway.

* * *

Author's note: Here's another chapter for you. I would love to hear your thoughts on everything. Do you feel like my Sam and Dean are staying true to their characters? Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following. I truly appreciate it.


	4. No Way to Forget

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 4

No Way to Forget

* * *

Dean wasn't sure what he expected to happen after running into his brother at the gas station, but he could always trust Sam to do the unexpected. Sam decided that he didn't want to have any conversation at all with Dean when his friends were watching their every move, so Dean watched as Sam went over to talk to them, straining as hard as he could to hear what was being said.

"Are you sure you're okay, Sam? Who is that guy?" the blonde girl asked.

"He's no one. Just an old friend," Sam answered.

Dean hated to admit it, but the "he's no one" statement really rankled him. He didn't expect Sam to go into complete detail about him, but he expected more than that.

"Listen, guys…I haven't seen him in a long time, so I'm going to hang out with him for a while. I'll see you all in class tomorrow, okay?"

The group didn't seem to like that idea at all. "Seriously, Sam? He looks a little crazy. Are you sure you want to go with him?" one of the guys asked.

Sam laughed. "He's harmless, I promise."

That rankled Dean even more. _Of course, he wasn't harmless!_ Standing up a bit straighter, Dean tried to look as threatening as he could. He smirked at the glare Sam shot his way. He definitely wasn't going to make things easy for his little brother.

Several minutes later Sam walked back over to his brother, still glaring but Dean could tell he wasn't really mad. "Dude, what's your problem? Are you trying to intimidate my friends?"

"Did it work?" Dean asked coolly.

"They all think you're crazy, if that's what you were going for."

"That'll work," Dean laughed. "Whatever keeps them from thinking I'm _harmless_."

"Get in the car, Dean," Sam growled. "Let's go before I change my mind."

Dean gladly got in the car, feeling almost completely at peace now that he and Sam were back together again.

* * *

After going through a drive-thru and grabbing a few burgers, Dean drove Sam to his motel room. He was a little embarrassed for Sam to see the state of the room, but quickly got over it. Sam had lived with him for 18 years. He knew that Dean could be a slob sometimes.

"How long have you been here?" Sam asked when he eyed the sink full of beer bottles.

"Not too long," Dean answered, trying to keep things as simple as possible. "So, let me look at you, little brother? Something's different about you."

Sam shifted uncomfortably under Dean's once over.

"You've lost a little weight, Sammy," Dean said in a disapproving tone. "And what's with your hair? Are you trying to grow it out so you can braid it?"

"It's not that long," Sam answered as he self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair.

"Come on, Sammy. It's so long I'm going to have to start calling you Samantha again."

"I've been busy with school, Dean. I haven't had time to get a haircut."

Dean walked over to his bed and dug around in his duffle. "I can take care of that for you, dude," he said as he pulled out his hunting knife. He couldn't keep from laughing hysterically at the look on Sam's face.

"You're not coming near me with that thing, Dean. Remember what happened last time? Dad got so mad at you when he had to take me to a barber shop to repair the damage you did. And you cut me, remember? I still have the scar."

Dean's smile vanished for a few seconds. "Yeah, Dad was pretty mad. I thought he was going to kill me when he walked in and saw what I was doing. I wouldn't have cut you if he hadn't snuck in and surprised me like that. I had it all under control."

"Dean, I looked like my head got stuck in a blender…"

"Yeah, well I think my backside looked worse after Dad was done with me. That man knows how to prove a point, doesn't he?"

Dean noticed right away that Sam's whole demeanor started to change once the conversation rolled around to John Winchester, so he quickly tried to change topics. "You're doing good in school?" he asked. "I bet you're pulling a 4.0 gpa aren't you?"

Dean nearly laughed at the slight blush that crept up Sam's neck.

"Yeah, but it's a lot harder than it was in high school. I really have to work at it now."

"What are you talking about?! You really worked at it in high school, too. You always had your nose in a book and you were always whining about needing more time for studying. I mean, Dad was ready to….."

Dean could have kicked himself for bringing up their father again, but luckily Sam didn't want to discuss the man any further.

"What about you?" Sam asked. "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing new," Dean answered. "Hunting, drinking, girls…. And not necessarily in that order. You know, just the usual stuff."

"And what are you hunting now? Anything I can help with?"

"You'd want to do that?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Well, I wouldn't use the word want, but I don't really like the idea of you hunting something by yourself. And neither would Dad."

Dean couldn't imagine what Sam would think if he knew that their dad had been sending him out on hunts by himself for the last six months. Sam had always been a worrier and he had taken John's edict of never hunting alone to heart. Of course, that edict only extended to the Winchester boys. John Winchester hunted alone all the time. He was definitely a 'do as I say, not as I do' kind of guy.

Grabbing two beers out of the small refrigerator, Dean sat down on the bed, motioning for Sam to grab a chair at the same time. "There's a ghost out at a place called Stow Lake that's recently started stepping up its game to hurting people. Someone was killed there a week ago. Have you ever heard of the place?"

"Yeah," Sam answered after taking a swig of his beer. "My friends and I hung out there occasionally at the start of the fall term. The water was still pretty warm and it's a great place to swim."

Dean had a hard time imagining Sam hanging out at a lake with a bunch of friends, but the thought brought a sad smile to his face. All he had ever wanted was for Sam to be happy, for him to have the childhood that Dean himself never had. Of course, that didn't happen, but Dean had tried to protect his brother as much as he could in the beginning. Their childhood wasn't great, but there were definitely a few good parts to it. All of Dean's best memories revolved around his little brother and it saddened him to think that Sam's best memories were most likely the ones he was making at Stanford. And Dean was okay with that, really, because it at least meant that Sam was happy.

After getting his thoughts back together and reining in his emotions, Dean started to explain what he had figured out about the ghost of Stow Lake.

"So, how are we going to fix this?" Sam asked. "If no one ever found her, there won't be a body to salt and burn."

"I don't know, Sammy, but I guess we need to just go out there and see if we can talk to her. Maybe we'll find an answer that way."

"I guess we're going to Stow Lake, then," Sammy sighed.

Dean looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly nine o'clock. "You're up for it tonight? We could always wait until the weekend, since you have class in the morning."

"My first class isn't until ten. Let's do this tonight."

* * *

The ride to Stow Lake was quiet, but comfortable. Dean and Sam always traveled well together and this time was no different. The radio was tuned to a classic rock station, as usual, and Dean was surprised to see that Sam seemed to be enjoying it.

"I know you probably never thought you'd hear me say this, but I've missed this music," Sam said with a laugh. "No one at school truly appreciates good classic rock. They're all into Matchbox Twenty or Usher and I just don't get it."

"Seriously? They don't know what they're missing out on. Zeppelin, Metallica, AC/DC. Nothin' better than that!"

"I'm not arguing with you. It's called classic rock for a reason, right?"

Dean grinned at Sam as he turned up the music.

"Whoa, there," Sam said as he reached over and turned it back down. "I said I missed it, but not enough to blow out my eardrums! I don't know how you can still hear after so many years of blasting your music like that."

"My hearing is great, Sammy. No need to worry about me!"

"Okay, but don't come crying to me when you're forty and can't hear a thing."

"That'll never happen. I probably won't even live to be forty."

Sam glared at Dean. "Why do you say stuff like that?"

"Because it's true, Sammy. The hunting life is dangerous, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember, but we know lots of hunters that are older than forty, Dean. Dad? Pastor Jim? Bobby? Remember them?"

"Jeez, Sam… I was just joking."

"It's not something to joke about, that's all," Sammy answered quietly.

"Okay, no more jokes about dying. Got it. Now, what's your plan for finding this ghost?"

"My plan? I don't have one. I thought you did."

"Hey, you're the college educated one here! Not me."

"But, you've been hunting longer than me, so you should be the one with the plan."

"Come on, Sammy. You know my plans usually consist of just winging it. It'd be nice to have a more concrete one this time."

Sam stared thoughtfully out the window. "I guess we should go to the part of the lake where she went missing. Do you know where that is?"

"The police reports said that the cars stalling all at the same time happened on the north side of the lake, but the couple that reported seeing the lady looking for her baby and the drowning a week later happened on the west side. So, we start somewhere in the middle?"

"Sounds like the start of a plan, Dean."

* * *

Dean had just parked the Impala on the side of the road when his phone rang. With a sinking feeling, he looked down to see that it was his dad calling. Sam looked at him as he stared at the phone, contemplating whether or not he should answer.

"Who is it?" Sam asked, even though Dean was sure he already knew.

"It's Dad," Dean replied.

"Answer it, Dean."

"I don't know if I should," Dean argued.

"Dean, answer the phone. What if it's an emergency?"

Dean hesitated through one more ring, before finally answering. "Dad?"

"Dean, where are you?"

"I'm uh….I'm in the Impala, Dad."

"That's not what I meant, son. What state are you in?"

"I'm uh….I'm still in Oregon," Dean lied. The last thing he needed was for John to know that he was in California.

"Good," John said. "I need you to head to Nevada. A little town called Carter Springs. There's been a report of what sounds like a shapeshifter there."

Dean looked over at his brother, hoping that he couldn't make out what John was saying. By the look on Sam's face, he didn't think he could.

"Dad, I can't right now. I'm working a case of my own. Can you send someone else?"

"No, everyone else is unavailable. Dean, this shapeshifter has already killed two people. So, start driving."

"I said I can't, Dad," Dean said quietly. "I can't just drop what I'm doing."

"I'm giving you a direct order, boy," John barked loudly, causing both Sam and Dean to jump slightly.

"And I'm telling you I can't," Dean said again. "Dad, people are dying here, too. And you always said never leave a job undone."

"I don't need you to tell me what I always say, Dean. I need you to follow orders without hesitation. This new attitude of yours leaves a lot to be desired."

"I'll head there as soon as I can, Dad," Dean answered, hoping to placate the man at least a bit.

After a long pause, John finally answered. "Listen, you finish whatever you're doing there and then you report back to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Another long pause. And then, "How are you doing, son? Are you all healed up? Do you need any help on this case?"

"I'm fine, Dad. Everything's healed and I don't need any help, sir."

"That's good to hear, Dean. Now, finish up the job and call me."

"Yes, sir."

Dean ended the call and stared out the window, not wanting to look at his brother. Sam obviously had something to say about that.

"What did he want?"

"He has a job. Wanted me to go to Nevada to help with a shapeshifter." Dean worked hard to make sure Sam didn't find out that John was sending him there to hunt alone.

"He was going to meet you there?"

"No, but another hunter was," Dean lied.

"He didn't sound happy when you told him no."

"When has he ever liked being told no, Sam. We're talking about John Winchester. He expects to be obeyed without hesitation."

"Which is exactly what you usually do."

"Well, not this time. I can't just leave in the middle of a job. That's not how I work."

"I guess we better finish this job, then. I wouldn't want Dad to come looking for you."

"Me, either, Sammy. Me, either."

* * *

After walking halfway to the north side of the lake and not finding anything, Dean decided it was time to split up. Sam continued to the north side, while Dean backtracked to the west side. Both made sure that their phones were receiving signals and both agreed to check in every fifteen minutes. Dean wasn't too keen on the idea of splitting up, but it was their best option. Plus, he knew that his brother was more than capable of dealing with a spirit.

Almost an hour had passed since they split up, when Dean received a frantic call from Sam.

"Dean, you need to get here now. I don't know how long I can hold her off."

"Where are you, Sammy?"

"I'm at the north side boat dock. I was just about to turn around and head back to the car when I saw her."

Before Dean could answer, his phone went dead. Trying to squash the small amount of panic that was building in his stomach, Dean turned and ran toward the Impala. He was only about five hundred yards away from it, so it didn't take long to get there. Unfortunately, when he tried to start the car, it wouldn't start.

Letting out a string of curses, Dean jumped out of the car and headed in the direction of the boat dock. Halfway there, he heard the sound of Sam's shotgun blasting and he pushed himself to run even faster. It didn't escape his notice that the previously clear night was now shrouded in a dense fog. The coldness in the air entered his lungs as he ran, making it harder to draw in a deep breath. He could feel his breath catching painfully in his chest, but he pushed on towards his brother. Eventually, he came upon the small boat dock, but saw no sign of his brother. Looking around frantically, Dean finally saw Sam's shotgun at the edge of the dock.

"Sam!" he yelled. "Sammy, where are you?!"

As he looked out over the lake, seeing nothing on the surface, the dense fog started to lift. Seconds later, the moon shimmered over the lake just enough for him to see a series of ripples about two hundred feet out. Without hesitation, Dean jumped in the water.

 _He had to find Sam._

* * *

Author's note: Wow! Another chapter already. Sam and Dean are finally back together and I'm hoping you enjoyed the little bit of bromance. I tried to make it a little more light-hearted before delving into more angst. And just so you know, I'm not much for writing action scenes, so I would love to hear what you all think. Did it make sense? Did it flow well enough?

Thanks so much for reading. I appreciate every one of you, especially those of you who take the time to review. I truly do love hearing your thoughts of what works and even what doesn't. Take care, all.


	5. Around The Shadows Creep

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 5

Around The Shadows Creep

* * *

Dean had never been a particularly good swimmer, having spent very little time in or near water in his lifetime, but he could hold his own. Especially when his little brother's life was at stake. It didn't take him long to get to the approximate area where he saw the ripples start, and once he was there, he dove down as deep as he could, over and over again. The water was so dark that it really didn't matter if his eyes were opened or closed, so he used his hands instead, grappling all around himself, hoping to feel an arm or leg or anything at all. Instead, he felt nothing but the cold water flowing through his fingertips.

Once he broke the surface again, he immediately took a deep breath and yelled. "SAM! SAMMY!"

As he tried to control his breathing, readying himself for another dive, he felt a coldness wash over him. He could see his breath hanging in the air as the water around him turned icy. Looking frantically around, Dean saw nothing. The moonlight reflected off the water, but the water's surface was completely still, not a ripple in sight. Just as he talked himself into believing he had imagined the coldness that had enveloped him, he heard a voice. Nothing more than a whisper, really, but it seemed to echo inside his head.

" _He's mine….."_

Dean turned frantically in the water, searching everywhere for the sound of the voice. "Hello?" he yelled. And then, "SAM!"

" _He's mine,"_ he heard again, this time sounding much closer than before. Just as he turned around, he felt something brush up against his leg, beneath the water. Dean kicked out and felt his kick land on something substantial. Without thinking, he dove back underwater and frantically felt around again, this time his fingers finding something to grasp.

Pulling with all of his might, Dean swam back to the surface, his fingers wrapped solidly around what he hoped was his brother. Once he broke the surface of the water, he was relieved to see his brother's mop of hair, covering a too still face. Panic welled up inside of him as he tried to determine if his brother was breathing, but he couldn't tell. Without a second thought, Dean started swimming toward the shoreline as fast as he could.

He had only gone about twenty feet when he felt something trying to tug Sam out of his grasp. Latching on even tighter, Dean pulled Sam's body closer to his own. "Leave him alone!" he yelled.

" _He's mine. You can't have him…"_

Ignoring the voice, Dean swam even harder towards the shore, every so often feeling something tugging at his brother. He felt like his heart was about to explode and his lungs felt like they would burst soon, but he kept swimming. About ten yards from the shore, Dean's legs started cramping, but he pushed through the pain. The tugs were becoming more frequent and more violent, but Dean wouldn't let go. He would never let go. He would hold onto Sam or die trying.

* * *

Eventually, Dean made it to the shore, still hanging on desperately to his brother. As far as he could tell. Sam hadn't moved a single muscle, causing dread to fill him completely. Looking down at Sam, he could tell that his lips were an unnatural blue and panic filled him, as well.

"Sam!" he cried as he shook his brother violently. "Sammy, wake up!"

When there was still no response, Dean's fingers found the groove in Sam's neck, feeling for a pulse. Relief shot through him as he felt the faintest of pulses feathering against his fingertips. Leaning his ear down, Dean listened to see if Sam was breathing, and at the same time, he watched his brother's chest, hoping to see it rising with inspiration. When he didn't see or hear anything, Dean quickly tilted Sam's head back, opened his mouth, and gave two quick breaths. A few seconds later, he did the same thing again.

He could feel the panic rising even higher when he felt the air around him grow colder again. After looking around the area and seeing nothing unusual, Dean turned back to his brother. Just as he was about to give Sam two more breaths, Sam's eyes opened and he started coughing. Dean quickly turned him onto his side and watched as water poured out of his mouth. The coughs that wracked Sam's body were terrifying, but Dean was sure he hadn't ever heard a sweeter sound.

"Sam! Sammy, I've got you. Just breathe, Sammy. Nice and slow, little brother."

"Dean," Sam gasped as he grabbed the front of Dean's shirt.

"No, don't talk, just breathe. You're okay. I've got you."

Sam's breaths were coming in painful gasps, but eventually he started to settle down. Dean couldn't help but notice that his little brother was shivering uncontrollably and knew that he had to get him warmed up. The blueness of his lips was still there, which made Dean nervous.

"Sam, we need to get you to the Impala. Do you think you can walk?"

Instead of answering, Sam was looking frantically around. "Where is she? Where did she go, Dean?"

Before Dean could answer, the same whispered voice echoed around them.

" _He's mine. He belongs with me….."_

They both noted that the temperature had dropped significantly around them and Dean knew they were running out of time.

"We need to get out of here! Come on." With that, Dean helped a shaky Sam to his feet. Without wasting any time, he put his arm around his brother, allowing Sam to lean against him as much as he needed as they made their way back to the car.

It took twice as long to make it back, due to the fact that Sam needed to stop frequently to catch his breath. Whenever they stopped, Dean anxiously looked around for anything unusual, impatiently waiting for Sam to be ready to move again. Eventually, they made it back to the car and after helping Sam to get settled into the front seat, Dean drove away as fast as he could.

* * *

They were at least fifteen miles away from the lake when Dean finally felt like he could slow down. Looking over at Sam, he noticed that the man was still shivering uncontrollably. The shivering, combined with the nearly incessant coughing, made Dean realize that Sam needed medical attention. Sam, of course, denied the need and tried to get his brother to take him back to the motel.

"You need to see a doctor, Sam," Dean argued. "You nearly drowned."

"I'll be fine. I just need to warm up a little bit. I need a hot shower."

"You need more than a hot shower, Sam. You're about to cough up a lung."

"Dean…" Sam whined.

"It's not up to you. I'm older, so I get to decide what's best."

"That's stupid!" Sam answered before a violent bout of coughing overtook him.

Without another word, Dean drove to the nearest hospital. By the time they got there, Sam's lungs were on fire and he was gasping for breath. Dean drove the Impala right up to the emergency room entrance, barely putting it into park before jumping out and yelling for help. Within seconds, someone showed up with a wheelchair. Dean followed his brother into the waiting room, but was barred from following him through to the ER by a burly security guard.

"Sir, you'll have to wait out here," the man said as he placed a hand gently on Dean's chest to stop him.

"I need to be with my brother," Dean yelled.

"Sir, someone will come out and get you when they have him stabilized," the man tried to explain, but Dean continued to push forward.

"Get the hell out of my way," he growled. "That's my brother."

By this time, another security guard arrived to help.

"Sir, if you don't cooperate, you'll have to leave the premises. Now please, back up and calm down."

Dean knew he was outnumbered, so he backed away a few paces. "I need to know what's going on," he said desperately.

One of the security guards, placed a hand on his shoulder and led him over to an empty seat. "Your brother is in good hands, I promise," he said gently. "And someone will be out soon to talk to you. Just hang tight for a few minutes, okay?"

Dean couldn't seem to find any words, so he just nodded his head as he slid down into the chair. He didn't even realize how cold he was until the guard showed up with some towels and a warm blanket. "You look a little cold there. I thought you could use something to dry off with."

"Thanks," Dean mumbled as he took the towels and blanket from the man. Suddenly, a weariness so deep that his bones ached overcame him, causing him to sink even further into the chair. The guard seemed to notice this and looked at him nervously.

"Are you okay, sir?" he asked. "Do you need medical help?"

"I'm fine," Dean answered slowly. "I just need to see my brother."

* * *

Almost thirty minutes later, the triage door opened and a young woman walked out. After talking to the security guard for a few seconds, she walked over to where Dean was slumped in the chair.

"Sir? My name is Dr. Porter. I understand you are the one who brought in my patient. I need to ask you a few questions, if that's okay?"

"How is he?" Dean asked immediately, as he stood up to meet the doctor. "Is he okay?"

"He's stable for now," the doctor quickly answered. Before she could continue, Dean interrupted.

"Can I see him? I need to see him."

"Sir, he's resting right now. And I have a few questions. I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation."

"I can and I will," Dean answered. "Right after I see my brother."

"Oh, he's your brother. Okay, well, if you'll follow me, um…."

"Dean," Dean answered. "Dean Winchester. And his name is Sam."

"Okay, then, if you'll follow me Mr. Winchester, I'll take you to Sam."

Dean followed the doctor through the double doors, not surprised to see one of the security guards following along. He knew he was acting a little unhinged, so he didn't blame them for being cautious. The doctor led him down a hallway, finally coming to a stop outside of a curtained area. "Mr. Winchester, your brother is suffering from severe hypothermia and hypoxia. We are currently trying to bring his body temperature up and we are giving him oxygen to treat the hypoxia. We've given him something to sedate him and to hopefully control the violent shivering and coughing. He'll need to stay here overnight for monitoring, so we will be moving him to his own room eventually."

Dean looked through the curtains and quickly found Sam. Truly, all he could see was the outline of his brother buried beneath multiple blankets. He also noticed all the wires and tubes that seemed to be snaking under the blankets. There were several bags of IV fluids hanging on poles around the bed and the cardiac monitor up in the corner of the room was beeping quietly with every beat of his brother's heart. Dean couldn't help but feel comforted by the sound.

Dean looked back at the doctor, who was watching him carefully. "But, he'll be okay, right?" Dean asked. Suddenly, the floor seemed to shift under his feet and he found himself having to grab onto the bedrail to keep from falling. Dr. Porter immediately shot forward to grab his arm.

"Mr. Winchester, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Dean answered. "It's just been a long day."

"Bart, could you find a chair for me, please?" she asked the guard. He immediately left the room and returned seconds later with a chair for Dean to sit in. Placing it next to the bed, he stepped back so Dean could sit down.

"Maybe I should give you a quick check-up, too," Dr. Porter said as she kept a watchful eye on Dean.

"I'm fine," Dean repeated. "Just take care of Sam. He's more important."

Dr. Porter looked like she might argue, but let the matter drop. Instead, she charted a few things down on Sam's chart before turning back to Dean. "I'll make sure they have a place for you to sit in your brother's room, Mr. Winchester," she said gently.

Dean looked up at her and gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you," he said. "And it's Dean. Just Dean."

* * *

By the time Sam was moved up to his new room, Dean was exhausted and hungry. He didn't want to leave his brother, just in case he decided to wake up, so the hunger would just have to be. Dean didn't want Sam to be alone when he woke up.

The nursing staff arranged for a reclining chair to be placed in the room, thanks to Dr. Porter's request. They also provided Dean with a pair of scrubs, so he could get out of his wet clothes. Once Sam was situated and Dean had answered what seemed like at least a hundred more questions, the staff left the room, leaving a small light on so they could check in as they needed. Dean gave Sam another once-over before finally settling down in the chair, pulling a blanket around himself tightly.

He was still chilled to the bone, but he wondered if it was more than just from being cold and wet earlier. This particular chill felt like more than just a physical chill. His bones ached with it and he felt like he would never be warm enough again. Looking over at Sam, he noticed that his brother was still shivering slightly, too, despite the multiple blankets piled on him and the warmed saline running through his veins.

Eventually, Dean couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. Allowing himself to sink bonelessly into the chair, Dean finally gave in to his exhaustion. Just before he fell asleep, though, he heard a whisper drift through the room, echoing in the stillness.

" _He's mine. I want him back…."_

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the wait, but I have to work to pay those pesky bills that are due every month. And for some reason, my family expects to eat. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one. I'm hoping to have another chapter up soon, too. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I would love to hear your thoughts on this one, if you're so inclined. And for those of you who celebrate it, I hope you all have a great Thanksgiving.

BTW…..the story title and chapter titles are all from an amazing song called Meet Me on the Battlefield by Svrcina. You should definitely listen to it. It was made for the Winchester brothers, if you ask me.


	6. Like Friends, They Cover Me

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 6

Like Friends, They Cover Me

* * *

Dean woke up to the sound of Sam having what sounded like a doozy of a nightmare. It wasn't all that unusual for a Winchester to have one, so Dean reacted as he had done a thousand times before. Jumping out of bed, he narrowly avoided face-planting on the floor when his feet tangled up in the blanket the nurses had given him.

"Sam? Wake up, dude. You're having a bad dream. Sammy?"

The heart monitor above the bed was beeping loudly as Sam's heart rate climbed rapidly. His head thrashed back and forth on the pillow and Dean could make out what he thought was the sound of his name on Sam's lips. Seconds later, Dean felt the temperature of the room drop significantly. Before he could wrap his mind around what was happening, Sam's body started violently shaking and a voice echoed in the room.

" _He's mine…"_

"Leave him alone," Dean yelled. "He doesn't belong to you!"

" _He's mine. He's always been mine…"_

Dean felt the touch of a cold hand on his arm, and as he attempted to pull his arm away, the touch suddenly became the grasp of cold fingers wrapping around his bicep. The grip was tight and he found that he was unable to pull his arm away. Just as he felt another hand starting to wrap around his throat, the door to the room opened and several people rushed inside.

"He's seizing," one of the nurses stated loudly. "Julie, could you get me some Ativan and page Dr. Porter?"

Before the nurse even left the room, Sam's body stopped shaking. His nurse, who Dean thought was named Mindy, quickly checked Sam's vital signs before turning to him. "Does your brother have any type of seizure disorder, Mr. Winchester?"

"What?" Dean asked in confusion. He was still frantically trying to wrap his mind about what was happening.

"Your brother…..has he had seizures before?"

Dean blinked several times, trying to get his brain to catch up with everything. "Uh, yeah….he had one once when he was five. The doctor said it was from a fever."

Dean could remember that event so vividly. He had been nine at the time and it was one of the first times their dad had left them alone for a long period of time. John had been gone for two days when Sam first showed signs of being sick. Dean could remember the way Sam's chest had rumbled with every breath he took and how his small body was wracked by exceedingly vicious coughs. He had tried everything he could think of to get Sam to eat and sleep, but the poor kid had no appetite and the coughing prevented him from getting much sleep.

By the third day of Sam's sickness, Dean was getting really worried. His brother did nothing more than lay on the bed hour after hour, staring at the ceiling with a blank gaze that terrified Dean. When he finally realized that Sam's body was burning with fever, he started to panic. Not having any way to call his dad, Dean did the next best thing and called Bobby. Luckily, Bobby answered the phone on the second ring, just as Sam's body started jerking violently on the bed. Dean could remember the terror that filled him as he watched his little brother seizing uncontrollably. Bobby's voice was coming from the phone that Dean had dropped in his initial panic and eventually Dean thought to pick it back up.

"Uncle Bobby! Something's wrong with Sammy,' he cried. "I-I think he's dying!"

Bobby tried to get some answers from the terrified kid without much success. Eventually, he was able to determine that Sam had been sick and was having what sounded like a seizure. After telling Dean to call 911 and to then make sure that Sam didn't hurt himself, Bobby reassured Dean that he was on his way. Of course, he had been two hours away at the time, so Dean had to deal with things on his own for a while.

Dean could remember the intense relief he felt when the ambulance finally showed up. He was only nine years old and knew that he shouldn't be expected to have to deal with things like his brother nearly dying in a cheap, dirty motel room all by himself. When he saw the two paramedics climb out of the ambulance, he immediately gave in to the tears that had been threatening to fall. The first paramedic immediately went over to the bed to check on Sam, while the second one started asking Dean what had happened. Within ten minutes, they had loaded Sam onto the gurney and into the ambulance. Dean feared that they weren't going to let him ride along, but one of them ushered him into the back to sit next to his brother.

The ride to the hospital was definitely the calm before the storm, though. Once they arrived at the hospital, Sam had been whisked away from him in a blur of controlled chaos. No one even bothered to look at Dean at first, but eventually someone came out and started asking questions. He answered the questions as best as he could, telling them Sam's name, how old he was, and that he wasn't allergic to anything that he knew of. Of course, there were also questions that he had no idea how to answer. _"Where are your parents? Why were you home alone? Who's taking care of you?"_

Dean knew, even at the young age of nine, that they were walking a treacherous path. John Winchester always drilled it into his sons' heads that they were never to do anything that would draw undue attention to them. Calling an ambulance would definitely do just that and Dean knew it. _But, he didn't really have a choice, did he?_

By the time Bobby arrived, Sam was settled into a room on the pediatric ward and Dean was nestled in the bed with him. One of the nurses told Dean that he couldn't be in the bed with his brother, but neither Dean nor Sam paid attention to her. The minute Sam woke up and called out for his brother, Dean had climbed into the bed, curling his body protectively around his brother.

Bobby opened the door to find both boys sound asleep. Sam's face was covered in a sheen of sweat, his head resting on his brother's chest. Dean's right arm was curled around Sam's little body and his face was covered in a trail of dried tears. Bobby pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and watched the boys sleep for several minutes as he tried to come up with a good story of why Sam and Dean had been left alone. He knew that Child Protective Services had probably already been called, so he would have to do some major damage control. Not for the first time, he cursed John Winchester for leaving his boys alone.

* * *

Dean had been flooded with the memories of that long ago night and the days that followed, so he didn't realize that Dr. Porter had entered the room.

"Mr. Winchester? Mr. Winchester! Dean, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Dean turned around to see the young doctor standing before him with a strange look on her face. He took a few deep breaths before trusting himself to talk without his voice shaking.

"I'm uh…. I'm fine," he finally answered. "How's Sammy?"

"Dean, I really don't think you're fine. You're shaking like a leaf. Maybe you should sit down for a minute."

"Really, I'm okay," Dean tried again. "Don't worry about me, worry about my brother."

Dr. Porter eyed him suspiciously before turning back to Sam. After several minutes, she cleared her throat, preparing herself to give Dean an update.

"Sam had a seizure," she stated matter of factly. "Mindy said that he had one once before? When he was five?"

"Yeah," Dean answered as he stared at his brother. "The doctor said it was because he had a really high fever."

"Well, he doesn't have a fever now. In fact, his body temperature is still a little on the low side of normal. And as far as you know, he doesn't have any other medical issues?"

Dean moved his gaze from his brother over to the doctor, wondering how much information to give her. Eventually, he decided to be as honest with her as he cautiously could be. "He has headaches sometimes. But, that's about it. He's pretty healthy."

"Okay, then…. We're going to load him up with some anti-seizure medication and continue to monitor him for now. I'd also like to get a CT scan of his head."

"Whatever he needs, Dr. Porter," Dean replied.

Dr. Porter turned back to Mindy, who was adjusting the blankets around Sam. "Mindy, could you also call maintenance for me? I don't think the thermostat is working in this room. It's so cold."

Dean's head shot up at her words and he looked anxiously around the room. Looking at Sam, he could see his breath hanging in the air, like a small plume of smoke that slowly dissipated. Dean quickly stepped over to his brother's side, prepared to do whatever it took to protect him. Just as he reached out to grab Sam's hand, he felt cold fingers wrapping around his throat again. This time, the fingers squeezed even tighter, causing him to gasp for breath.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

Dean's eyes widened in panic when he couldn't breathe. His fingers scrabbled at his neck, prying at the non-existent fingers that were cutting off his air and depriving him of the oxygen his body so desperately needed. Just as suddenly as it started, though, the squeezing stopped, causing him to fall to his knees as he gasped and sputtered to catch his breath.

"Dean, what happened?!" Dr. Porter asked as she ran forward to help him. Before he knew what was happening, someone was putting an oxygen mask on his face and checking his pulse and blood pressure.

"Slow down your breathing, Dean," someone was saying. "Take slow deep breaths."

Dean wanted to punch whoever was telling him to slow his breathing down. _Couldn't they tell that he was trying to do just that?!_

After several minutes, where the medical staff were focused on Dean and not Sam, Dean had had enough. Ripping off the oxygen mask, he pulled himself back to his feet, his breathing almost under control. "I'm fine," he tried to reassure the staff. "Check on Sam."

"Sam is fine, Dean. You're the one we're worried about right now. What happened?"

"I have no idea!" Dean yelled. "But, I'm fine!"

"Okay," Dr. Porter finally ceded the fight. "But if anything like that happens again, I'll have to insist on a full work-up." She was surprised when Dean gave her a short nod before turning back to Sam. She also couldn't help but be amazed at how stubborn he was.

* * *

By the time Sam finally woke up, Dean was sound asleep. Sam had no way of knowing this, but his brother had been by his side the whole day, leaving only to use the bathroom or whenever the medical staff kicked him out of the room. Dean had followed as they wheeled Sam's bed down to the radiology department for the CT scan. He stayed in a chair next to the bed as the phlebotomist took vial after vial of blood from Sam's arm. He even sat in the corner of the room when two nurses came in to give Sam his sponge bath.

Eventually, though, exhaustion had overtaken him without warning. One second, he had been sitting in a chair next to the bed, his eyes moving back and forth between the rise and fall of Sam's chest to the blip of his heartbeat on the monitor. The next second, he was sound asleep, his mouth hanging open slightly, his left hand tightly gripping Sam's. He would, of course, deny actually holding his brother's hand, if anyone ever questioned him about it.

He woke up sometime later to find Sam staring at him. "Sam? What time is it?"

"Almost five o'clock. You've been asleep for a few hours."

"How long have you been awake?" Dean asked. "And why didn't you wake me up?"

"You're just so cute when you sleep, Dean," Sam teased. "I didn't have the heart to wake you up."

"Shut up," Dean growled as he straightened himself up in the chair. "How are you feeling, dude?"

"Good, I guess. I keep getting chilled, but it usually only lasts for a few minutes. What happened, Dean?"

"You don't remember?"

"Not really. I remember going out to Stow Lake. I remember splitting up to check things out, but that's it. Everything else is just a blank."

Dean spent the next several minutes telling Sam what had happened. There were several blank spaces that only Sam could fill in, but Dean was able to explain most of it.

"So, someone…..some _thing_ pulled me into the lake? And tried to kill me?"

"Well, I don't know if she was trying to kill you, but she definitely didn't want to give you back. In fact, she was pretty adamant about keeping you. I bet she'd change her mind if she knew how gassy you were."

Sam glared at his brother before continuing. "What do you mean she didn't want to give me back?"

"She didn't want to give you back, Sam. What do you think that means?" When Sam shot another glare at him, Dean decided to quit teasing. "Once I found you, I started swimming for the shore. But, something kept trying to pull you back under the water. I almost lost you several times, Sammy."

"But you didn't."

"But I almost did."

Sam knew how serious his brother was about protecting him. He also knew that Dean would blame himself to the point of utter annihilation if anything ever happened to his little brother on his watch.

" _But you didn't._ I'm here right now because of you, Dean. You saved me."

Dean looked closely at his brother for several long seconds. "That's enough of the chick-flick moments, Sammy."

"Fine," Sam agreed. "Then I guess we need to figure out what we're going to do."

"What do you mean? _We're_ not going to do anything."

"We have to go back, Dean. We have to figure out a way to stop her before she gets to someone else."

"No way, Sam! You're not going back there. No way!"

"What?! Of course we're going back there. Dean, we have to finish the job."

"I'll finish the job, Sammy, but _you're_ not going back there."

"And _you're_ not going by yourself, Dean," Sam insisted.

"You almost died, Sam! I almost let you die and there's no way I'm risking that again. You need to go back to school."

"I'm not letting you go back to that lake by yourself."

"And I'm not letting you go with me," Dean nearly yelled.

"Dean, come on. We're a team, remember? We fight better as a team."

"We _used_ to be a team, Sam. But, you left, remember?"

"Dean…"

"No, Sam. I'm done talking about it. You chose school over hunting. Go back to school."

* * *

Author's note: I'm sorry about the long wait, folks. Life's been a bit busy lately and writing sometimes has to be put on the back burner, no matter how much I enjoy it. Thanks for being patient with me. I truly hope you enjoy the chapter, and as usual, I appreciate you taking the time to read and would love to hear your thoughts.

Btw, don't get too mad at Dean. He's just trying to protect his brother. ;)


	7. Just Want To Lay Me Down

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 7

Just Want To Lay Me Down

* * *

If there was one thing Sam hated about his brother it was how he always thought his word was final. There was no arguing with Dean Winchester when he made his mind up. And for once, even though he didn't want to admit it, Dean was right. Sam _had_ chosen school over hunting. All he had wanted, for as long as he could remember, was to leave the hunting life behind. Stanford had afforded him that opportunity and he had jumped at the chance, regardless of what anyone else thought. Sam had only one regret over his decision to go off to Stanford, though…..he regretted leaving his brother behind.

Dean was, and always had been, Sam's true north. He was the one guiding principle for all that Sam ever wanted to be. For him to be able to leave his brother so easily was something that hurt Sam deep in his soul. It was completely and totally selfish on his part. And he hated himself for that.

Dean, on the other hand, had always been completely selfless when it came to his brother. Dean always put Sam first, his father second, hunting third, and everything else before himself. In fact, other than his basic desire to satiate his physical needs with cheeseburgers, beer, and sex, Dean's needs were barely acknowledged.

And Sam always came first. In everything. When they were kids, Dean always made sure that Sam had what he needed. Maybe not always what he wanted, but definitely what he needed. Sam may not have had the latest in popular clothing or new gadgets, but he always had shoes that fit him and coats to keep him warm. And that was more than could be said for Dean. Dean's clothes always seemed to be just a little too small for him, his shoes just a little too worn and tight. Sam knew now that there were times that Dean had gone hungry so that his little brother could eat. Dean had, more often than not, gone without so Sam could have what he needed.

And that wasn't all. Sam also knew that Dean had served has a buffer between him and his father on numerous occasions. Dean was always caught in the middle of whatever war was brewing between the other two Winchesters. He walked a fine line during these wars, often finding himself behind enemy lines in his attempt to keep the peace.

In fact, there were many times that Dean had offered himself up as a sacrifice to John Winchester's ire in order to protect Sam. Now that he thought about it, Sam realized that in this regard, Dean was actually quite selfish. His big brother hated to see his little brother get in trouble, especially if that trouble could in any way end up with their dad pulling off his belt. Dean was no stranger to a good old-fashioned John Winchester butt whipping and he would do anything in his power to keep Sammy from it. It didn't matter to him that Sam hated to see his brother get into trouble just as much.

Dean looked out for him. That was his job, at least according to their dad. First and foremost, look out for Sammy. Look out for Sammy. Look out for Sammy. Sam was tired of hearing that. He was a grown man who could look out for himself. And there was no way he wasn't going to let Dean go off and hunt this ghost by himself.

* * *

Dean adamantly refused to allow Sam anywhere near Stow Lake again. The sound of that ghostly voice whispering that Sam belonged to her still echoed in his mind, causing a coldness to settle permanently in his bones. He felt like he would never be warm again.

Sam, of course, was doing what Sam did best. He argued non-stop with Dean's decision to hunt the ghost by himself. He made a few good points, but there was no way Dean was going to yield his point. For some unknown reason, the ghost of Stow Lake wanted Sam and Dean couldn't figure out how his brother fit into her story. After all, the woman had lost a baby, not a six foot four inch Sasquatch.

If Dean allowed Sam to go back to the lake, who knew what would happen? Who knew if Dean could keep him safe? And Dean couldn't take that risk. No, it was better if Sam went back to school. He would be safer there and Dean could put all of his attention and focus into taking care of the ghost.

Before either of them could argue any more, the door opened and Dr. Porter entered. She quickly examined Sam before jotting down a few notes in his chart. Eventually, she turned her attention back to the two men.

"I was thinking, Sam, that if you're feeling up to it, I could release you after lunch today. How does that sound?"

Before Sam could answer, Dean butted in. "Are you sure, doc? Don't you think he should stay a little longer? He nearly drowned just a few days ago."

"I'm aware of that, Dean," she laughed. "But, he's recovered remarkably. His vital signs are stable and his chest x-ray looks clear. He'll just need to take it easy for a few days, but he can do that at home. No need to stay here, right?" she asked as she turned to Sam.

"Right!" Sam answered quickly. "I'll be fine, Dean."

Dean didn't look convinced, but he knew he was outnumbered. "Fine, I'll take you back to your apartment. You probably have a lot of work to make up."

"I'll just go back with you, Dean. It's already almost the weekend and I can just email my professors and tell them I had an accident. They'll let me make up the work I've missed."

"I'm not staying around, Sammy," Dean lied. "Dad wants me to do that job in Nevada, remember?"

"Dean, you can't leave yet. We still have the job here to finish."

"We're done here, dude. The job's done."

"No, it's not and you know it. We can't leave without finishing it, Dean."

Dean turned to Dr. Porter who was watching the two of them with curiosity. "Hey, Doc… could you give us a few minutes? I need to knock some sense into my little brother."

"As long as you promise not to hurt my patient, Mr. Winchester," she said. "I'll be back after lunch."

Dean watched her walk out the door and then turned back to his brother. "You're going back to school, Sam," he said matter of factly, no room for argument.

"No, I'm not," Sam replied just as matter of factly.

"Damn it, Sammy! This isn't up for discussion. You're not going back there!"

"I can take care of myself, Dean. I'm a big boy."

"Size has nothing to do with it, Sammy. You don't remember because you were in the process of trying to die on me, but that ghost or spirit or whatever it was….she really wants you, Sam. I don't think she's going to give up easily, you know? You have to stay away from her."

"Well, if she's not going to give up easily then there's no way you're going back there by yourself," Sam argued. "Come on, Dean. You're smarter than that."

"I can handle it. Especially if I don't have to worry about you."

"You're like a broken record, Dean."

"Well, maybe if you'd start listening…."

"When are you going to realize that you don't have to worry about me anymore?" Sam asked.

"I'll always worry about you, Sammy. That's my job. When are you going to realize that that's not going to change?"

"Fine," Sam finally acquiesced. "I don't like it, but I'll go back to school like a good little boy."

"Atta boy, Sammy!"

* * *

Of course, Sam had no plans whatsoever to go back to school like a good little boy. Instead, he planned on putting his skills as a hunter to good use by following Dean closely. He knew he would have to really be careful, though. Dean was the best hunter he knew and tailing him without being found out would be nearly impossible.

Luckily, after Dean dropped him off back at Stanford with instructions to lay low and behave himself, Sam was able to talk one of his friends into letting him borrow his car. An hour after Dean left the campus, Sam found himself sitting outside of the motel room, his eyes closely watching for any movement behind the curtain of Dean's room. Once he saw the lights turn out, he settled down in the car to wait. Dean never slept more than four hours at a time, so Sam figured he would get caught up on some of his homework while he waited.

* * *

Dean hated leaving his brother back at school, but he knew it was what had to be done. This ghost wasn't like the usual ghost they dealt with. For starters, he had never known one to travel so far away from its tethering ground. Secondly, he had never known one to latch onto someone so fiercely and possessively. He knew deep down that this ghost wasn't about to give up on what she wanted and until he could figure out a way to stop her, Sam was in danger.

Once he got back to the motel, he realized how exhausted he was. The time they had spent in the hospital had been anything but restful for either of them. Sam had slept a little more than him, but only because he had been medicated. Dean didn't know if that really counted as restful sleep. Looking at his watch, he figured that if he slept for his usual four hours, he would still have time to go back to the library before it closed at seven. He had some more research to do before he even attempted to go back to the lake. He only hoped that nothing happened to anyone else while he slept.

* * *

Almost exactly four hours later, Sam noticed movement behind the thin curtain of Dean's motel room. Minutes later, the door opened and a surprisingly refreshed-looking Dean walked out. Sam ducked down in the car as far as he could as Dean walked over to the Impala. Following Dean without being noticed was harder than it looked, but Sam thought he was successful. He was also surprised when his brother stopped in front of the library. Dean hated research almost as much as he himself hated the training drills their father always put them through.

Knowing that Dean was probably doing more research on the Stow Lake ghost, Sam stayed in the car and waited. He didn't think he would be lucky enough to follow his brother into the library without being noticed, so waiting in the car was the safest option. But sitting in the car for almost another two hours was difficult, to say the least. This particular car was not made for someone of his height and build, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. He was just thankful to have a friend who was willing to let him borrow the car.

Dean was one of the last ones out of the building and Sam waited impatiently for him to get in his car and drive off. He had no idea where his brother was going at first, but eventually he realized that Dean wasn't heading back to the motel. Instead, he was heading out of the city _. What was he doing?!_

* * *

After two hours of solid research, Dean finally hit on something that he thought was actually significant. About the same time as the lady disappeared into the lake all those years ago, a baby had been found abandoned on the side of the road a few towns over. No one ever showed up to claim the baby boy, so he had been placed into an orphanage and eventually adopted by a newly married couple.

Dean thought it might be a stretch, but he wondered if the two incidences were related. It didn't take him long to trace the abandoned baby to a man who was still living in the same small town. Of course, this man would be the great-great-grandson of that little baby, but it was at least a starting point. Dean was eager to talk to the man, but realized that it would be in his best interest to wait until morning. He didn't want to start off on the wrong foot with the man and showing up on his doorstep at nearly nine o'clock at night would surely do just that.

After making his mind up to return to the motel for the night, Dean headed in that direction. After only a few miles, though, he changed his mind. Turning the Impala around, he headed toward the lake, figuring he would get one more look at the lake and anything it wanted to show him.

* * *

Author's note: I know this chapter is significantly shorter than my others, but I've been having some computer issues. Apparently, spilling wine on your computer isn't a recommended activity. Who knew?!

This chapter has a little bit more of the Stow Lake ghost story, which I've twisted a bit to fit my story. That's the good thing about ghost stories, though, right? There are so many different versions of the story/legend that we can do things like that.

I hate (secretly love) it when the boys are at odds with each other, but I promise it won't be that way for long. As usual, they will both remember that they are stronger together. It may be a bumpy ride for a while, but it will all smooth out eventually. Oh, and I hope you don't mind the alternating viewpoints in this chapter. I just thought both boys deserved to be heard.

Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on everything. Take care.


	8. And Finally Try to Get Some Sleep

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 8

And Finally Try to Get Some Sleep

* * *

Dean pulled up to the dock on the north side of the lake at a little after eight o'clock. The sky was clear and the air was cold and brisk, leading him to grab his jacket out of the back seat of the car. Throwing it on as he stepped out of the car, Dean looked around him cautiously.

The lake was still and quiet with barely a ripple disturbing its surface. Dean thought this was odd with how brisk the air felt and the chills that were running through him. He had been fighting ghosts and monsters his whole life, but there was something about this one that unbalanced him. _Was it just that she was so possessive of his brother? Or was it just the palpable sadness and desperation that permeated her very being?_

Of course, this wasn't the first time that they had come across a sad and desperate spirit. To be honest, almost all spirits had sad stories. They all had loved at some point in their lives and that love, and often time's subsequent loss, frequently drove them to becoming the restless spirits they were. It's just the way it was. But this time something felt different to him. More malevolent. Scary. Disturbing, really.

Making his way over to the dock, he was startled to hear several voices close by. Dean looked around him, searching for the owner of the voices. After getting a little bit closer to the dock, he suddenly saw a group of people standing close to the edge of the water. A thrill of panic shot through him, but he forced himself to take several deep breaths before stepping toward the group.

"Hey," he said as jovially as he could. "What are you all doing out here?"

"What business is it of yours?" one of the young men asked as they all turned to look at him. Dean didn't miss the way the three girls seemed to be checking him out. He also didn't miss the way the three boys were sizing him up.

"Sorry, man, I was just striking up some conversation. Nothing personal." Dean gave them his most charming smile, hoping to win them over.

"Well, maybe you should just mind your own business and leave us alone."

"I could do that," Dean said as he stepped a bit closer to them. "But, I just want to make sure you all are safe. This can be a dangerous place, in case you didn't know."

One of the girls sidled up closer to one of the boys. "What do you mean?" she asked.

Dean looked around the group, who appeared to be in their late teens, and decided a little fear might be an appropriate tact to take with them. "So you haven't heard, huh? About the recent drowning and other weird things that happened around here?"

"Someone drowned here?"

"Yeah, about a week ago, I think. And a bunch of other stuff happened, too. People are saying there's a ghost that haunts this part of the lake. I don't know if you all believe in that sort of thing."

"Maybe we should just go," one of the girls said in a shaky voice.

"We're not leaving. This jerk is just trying to scare us."

Dean could tell that this kid was the ringleader of the group. And also just a big idiot. Dean wanted to punch the guy right in the nose. "Listen, I'm just telling you what I know. My uh….my uncle works for the Sheriff's department. He told me all about what happened with the drowning. Talk about some weird stuff. Apparently the kid was just pulled underwater by something."

"Aaron, let's just leave, okay? We can go back to Maggie's and sit in her hot tub."

The other kids looked like they agreed with the girl, but Aaron wasn't about to give in. "I don't want to leave. We came here to have some fun, right? And I don't even believe in ghosts."

"I do," one of the other boys said. "I've seen one before. I don't want to mess around with any of that, dude. Let's get out of here."

Dean was surprised to see at least one of them had some common sense. "I'd listen to your friend if I were you, Aaron. Sitting in a hot tub with these beautiful ladies seems like a much better plan, if you ask me."

"Well, no one asked you, so…."

Before Dean could say anything else, he noticed the temperature drop immensely.

"Son of a bitch," he growled, noticing the way his breath hung in the air. "Listen, dude, you all really need to leave. Right now."

"You listen, dude…..I'm really tired of you butting in where you don't belong. I'm not kidding. _You_ need to leave!"

Dean was working up another answer for the boy when one of the girls suddenly started screaming. Dean spun himself around to see what she was looking at, unsurprised to see the very real looking form of a young woman walking along the shoreline. _Well, she looked real except for the fact that you could see through her and her feet didn't seem to be touching the ground_.

"Get behind me," Dean yelled at the group of kids, not surprised when they all jumped to obey him.

"What is that?!" Aaron yelled.

Dean pulled his shotgun out from inside of his jacket, pointing it at the ghost without delay. "It's a ghost. I tried to tell you," he answered simply.

The ghost was about thirty yards away and slowly moving closer. Dean was just about to fire at it, but Aaron interrupted him. "What are you doing? You can't shoot a ghost with a gun, you idiot!"

"Shut up, Aaron!" Dean yelled.

By this time the ghost was even closer. Dean could tell that she was looking around for something, and he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what she was searching for. Or who, as the case may be.

" _Where is he? What have you done with him?"_ she asked in her spine-tingling voice as she moved even closer. Dean could hear several of the kids behind him crying and he was pretty sure it wasn't just the girls.

Dean wasted no time in firing his shotgun. Seconds later, she had disappeared right in front of their eyes.

"Where'd she go?" Aaron yelled.

"She won't be gone for long," Dean yelled back. "The salt rounds will only hold her off for a short amount of time. Get out of here."

Fortunately, the group of kids wasted no time in turning to run back to their cars. Unfortunately, just as they turned, the ghost appeared right in front of them. Dean ran forward to get between them, but he was too late. Just as he was raising his shotgun again, the ghost reached forward and grabbed Aaron by the neck, lifting him up off the ground as if he weighed nothing.

"Help him," someone yelled frantically.

"Let him go!" Dean yelled as he tried unsuccessfully to get a clean shot off. The ghost was smarter than he thought, easily using Aaron's body as a shield to keep him from shooting.

" _Where is he? He's mine."_

Dean was getting pissed. "Listen, lady! He's not yours. He doesn't belong to you!"

" _He's mine….."_

Dean could tell that Aaron was having a hard time breathing. "Let him go!" he yelled at the ghost. "Let him go and you can take me instead."

The ghost looked at him in interest. Dean figured she knew that he was related to the one she _really_ wanted. Everyone else was looking at him like he was crazy.

"What are you doing?!" someone yelled. "Are you crazy?"

At that moment, Dean saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. To his complete and utter horror he saw Sam emerging from the tree line. Knowing he didn't have much time, he leapt forward and grabbed at Aaron, pulling him away from the ghost. "Take me," he said as he pushed the kid behind him. He knew he had to do something before she realized that Sam was close.

Just as he thought his plan wasn't working, the ghost grabbed him and started pulling him toward the lake. Dean yelled at the group of kids to run and wasn't surprised when they immediately took off. Once he saw that they were safely away, he turned his attention to trying to get himself away from the ghost. The coldness of the water took his breath away and he struggled even harder, but it was no use. Whatever hold the ghost had on him was too strong and he found himself being pulled under the water.

Dean gasped for one last breath, filling his lungs with as much air as he could before going under again. This time he knew he wasn't coming back up. The coldness numbed his body to the point of him not being able to fight any longer and his muscles were cramping relentlessly. His lungs burned and his heart was pounding painfully in his chest. The sounds of the water was rushing in his ears and he wondered why he was giving up so easily. _Why wasn't he fighting harder? Did he think the ghost would just be satisfied with him? That maybe she would give up on wanting Sam?_

Just as the darkness started barreling in on him, he felt something tug at his arm. The tug was so powerful that he felt his shoulder dislocate, causing the last little bit of air to leave his lungs. Dean blacked out just as he heard something he never wanted to hear.

" _You came back to me. You're home….."_

* * *

Sam couldn't believe what his idiot brother was doing. He had been watching from the tree line as Dean approached the group of teenagers at the edge of the lake. He watched as his big brother turned on the infamous Dean Winchester charm and tried to convince the group to leave the lake. He watched as everything Dean tried to do failed majorly.

During that whole time, Sam stayed where he was. He wanted to give Dean a chance to do his thing, but he also _didn't_ want him to know that he had been following him. Dean would not be happy to find out that Sam hadn't gone back to school like he was supposed to. And Dean could be a real jerk when he thought his little brother wasn't doing what he was told to do.

But then he heard Dean's words, telling the ghost to let the kid go and to take him instead. Sam couldn't believe his brother could be so stupid. _What was he thinking?! Didn't he realize that trying to manipulate a spirit was never a smart idea?_

Sam saw the exact moment that Dean realized he was there. The look on his brother's face surprised him and sent chills through him at the same time. Sam didn't think he had ever seen his brother look so desperate, and that was saying something. There had been so many times when they were younger when a hunt hadn't gone quite like they wanted it to. Sam had seen almost the same look on his brother's face when their dad had been attacked by a wendigo almost eight years before. The man had been tossed around like a rag doll, his stomach gashed open by the wendigo's claws. Dean had been able to fend off the wendigo long enough for Sam to sneak up behind it and incinerate it. Then all of his attention had been placed on John Winchester.

Dean desperately tried to stop the bleeding from John's wounds, all the while shouting out orders for Sam to go back to the Impala and go for help. They had been stuck up in the middle of nowhere and the nearest town was almost fifteen miles away. Sam had never been so scared in his life as he started the car and drove back towards the town. Almost halfway there he finally saw a payphone and after coming to an abrupt stop, he quickly called 911 and told them where he was and that he needed help right away.

It didn't take long for the ambulance to show up, although it seemed like an eternity to his terrified brain. Without delay, Sam led them back down the road and to the same spot they had parked the Impala earlier. The ambulance crew didn't look too happy about having to hike in to where their patient was, but they immediately took off, following Sam down a treacherous path.

Sam finally turned the last corner to where he had left his family, happy to see that they were still in the same place. He didn't know what he expected. John Winchester was too seriously injured to be moved without proper care. Sam quickly looked at his brother, completely surprised by the anxious and desperate look on his brother's face. He could glean so much information by that look and he could tell that it wasn't good. Dean was scared and their dad was about to die.

That look of desperation on his brother's face had haunted Sam for many months. Whenever he looked at his father through the next six weeks of difficult recovery, Dean's face haunted him. Sam remembered feeling bad for his brother for having to stay put with a dying father, unable to do anything but either wait for help to arrive or watch the man take his last breath. In the meantime, Sam had been the one to go get help. It wasn't easy for him, either, of course. Having to leave his brother and father had been one of the hardest things he had ever done, actually.

And now, Sam saw that same look on Dean's face. He knew that Dean would do anything and everything in his power to keep Sam away from the ghost that wanted him so desperately. He watched as his brother wrestled the young man out of the ghost's grasp, yelling at them all to run. Part of Sam wanted to beat the hell out of the kids for leaving his brother to face the ghost all alone, but another part of him understood. _They were just kids and had no idea what was going on_.

As the group of kids ran past him, Sam took off to help his brother. He was still feeling a little weak from his own excursion into the lake a few days before, but he ran as fast as he could. He pumped his legs harder when he saw the ghost dragging Dean into the lake. His lungs were on fire as he gasped for breath, but he didn't slow down.

Dean had gone underwater and resurfaced several times before finally going under for one last time. By this time, Sam had already dove into the water and started swimming towards the last place he had seen his brother go under. Taking a deep breath, he dove down, looking and feeling frantically around him for Dean.

It was on his third time diving that he saw the ghostly apparition appear in front of him, her pale hands suddenly letting go of Dean.

" _You came back to me. You're home…"_

He could feel the icy hands grabbing onto him, but all he could think about was Dean. Once the ghost let go of Dean, Sam had lost him. _Had he gone deeper into the lake? Or had he floated back up to the surface?_

Sam struggled to get away from the icy grip, but it was proving to be nearly impossible. Just as he was about ready to give up, Sam noticed the ghost's attention turn to something behind him. Turning himself around, he noticed the shape of what looked like an anchor descending past him before finally settling on the lake floor. Without hesitation, Sam reached out and grabbed onto the iron links, pulling himself away from the ghost. He was surprised when she didn't follow him. Instead, she dissipated right in front of him, her words echoing in her head.

" _You're mine. You'll always be mine….."_

* * *

Dean felt something sitting on his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. Every breath he took was inadequate, leaving him to feel like he was slowly dying. He tried to move his hands up to his chest, wanting to push away whatever it was that had planted there, but they wouldn't move. Panic started to fill him as he realized that he couldn't seem to move anything at all. _What was happening? Was he dead? Where was Sam?_

He stopped trying to move and concentrated instead on listening to what was going on around him. At first, all he heard was a deep rumble surrounding him, seemingly coming from all directions at once. After a few seconds, he could tell that the rumbling was actually a conglomeration of other sounds, all combining to create one sound. It didn't take him long to realize that the sounds were mostly words combined with a piercing siren. _Was he in a police car? Had he been arrested for something?_

After trying to figure out the sounds for a few more minutes, he decided to focus on something else. He started to catalog his body, just like his dad taught him all those years ago, starting with the top of his head and working his way down. Focusing on his head, he immediately realized that it hurt immensely. His eyes wouldn't open, his ears were plugged up, and his throat was sore. As he focused a little harder, he realized that there was something snaking into his mouth and down his throat, causing him to want to gag and cough. But he couldn't.

Next, he cataloged his arms, feeling something intermittently squeezing his left upper arm every few minutes. He also felt something poking his arm right at the elbow and he suddenly realized that it was someone starting an IV on him. Without further ado, he realized that he was more than likely in the back of an ambulance, hence the sound of the loud and obnoxious siren.

Once Dean realized that he was in the back of an ambulance, obviously on his way to a hospital, everything came rushing back to him. _The lake, the ghost, Sammy showing up when he was supposed to be safe at Stanford._ Panic filled him when he realized that he had no idea where Sam was. Without conscious thought or effort, Dean sat straight up on the gurney, his hands reaching for the tube that was helping him breathe. The paramedic that was sitting next to him immediately reached for Dean's hands, preventing him from pulling out the tube. Once he had Dean's hands restrained, he pushed him back onto the gurney, all the while trying to calm him down with reassuring words.

Dean still struggled against the man's hold, but he didn't have a lot of strength left in him. Seconds later, he felt the numbing bliss of whatever sedative the paramedic had injected into his IV. His last coherent thought was of his brother.

" _Sammy, where are you?"_

* * *

Author's note: Well, I said I'd try to get another chapter up before Christmas, so here you go. I thought it was going to be a short one, but it turned out to be a little longer than I thought. And don't worry…. You'll find out what happened to Sam in the next chapter. Thanks so much for reading and hopefully reviewing. I love hearing your thoughts on the story and your reviews can be very helpful in shaping the story into something more enjoyable.

If anyone's interested, I posted a new story called Watch Out For Sammy a few days ago. It's a Weechester (Sam and Dean are kids) story, just so you know. I'm not sure if it's going to be just a one-shot or something more.

Take care, y'all. And Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it.


	9. We Carry On Through the Storm

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 9

We Carry On Through the Storm

* * *

Darkness. Emptiness. Solitude. Silence. He felt like he was drowning, yet floating serenely at the same time. There was nothing around him, yet he felt everything. Something pushing him. Something pulling him. Tugging, grasping, holding, forcing, shoving, releasing, contracting. Something magnetic pulling him towards the surface. Something powerful restraining him. Waxing, waning. Yin, yang. Good, evil. Hope, despair.

The first glimmer of light was just a tiny sliver, dim in its intensity, yet bright enough to spark something deep inside of him. He had no idea how to move toward that light, but he knew he would die trying, using everything within him to reach it and the hope it represented.

But, it was impossible. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't do anything. He was powerless and hopeless and confused. But, most of all, he was scared. Terrified, actually. What pissed him off the most, though, was how he felt completely helpless. Dean Winchester didn't _do_ helpless. Before he could think anything else, the glimmer of light burned out, leaving him in complete and total darkness. Emptiness. Solitude.

* * *

Sam hadn't left his brother's side at all in the last few days. He knew that Dean would never admit it, but he hated hospitals, especially if he was the patient. Sam knew it had a lot to do with the fact that Dean hated to appear weak and hated even more to not be in complete control of himself.

Sam was still trying to wrap his mind around what had happened. One second he had watched helplessly as the spirit pulled his brother into the water, the next he was fighting for his own life. He remembered the panic that filled him as he lost sight of his brother in the water. He didn't have time to search for Dean, though, because the ghost had grabbed onto him and was trying to take him deeper into the lake.

Sam had been ready to give up his own life for Dean, but not knowing if his brother would live changed everything. He was willing to fight, to do whatever he had to do to save Dean, but he was quickly losing his own battle. He was beginning to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen, when he suddenly noticed the ghost's grip loosening a little as she looked at something behind him.

Turning around quickly, Sam noticed the thick iron links of an anchor speeding past him. Once they stopped falling, Sam reached out and grabbed one of the links, pulling himself away from the ghost and putting the iron links between them. Knowing that the iron from the anchor would deter the ghost, he was still surprised to see her dissipate in front of him, giving up without a fight, her words echoing in the stillness of the water.

" _You're mine. You'll always be mine…."_

The next thing Sam knew, something had dropped into the water from above. He could barely make out the outline of a boat above him and without waiting, he let go of the anchor link and started ascending to the surface. By the time he reached the surface, something else had dropped into the lake and he suddenly found himself being grabbed and pulled into a boat.

Sam frantically looked around, hoping to find his brother somewhere in the boat, but he didn't. Turning around, he looked frantically across the too still lake, searching for signs of Dean.

"Dean!" he yelled as loudly as he could in between the coughs that were wracking his body. "Dean!"

Someone close by suddenly threw a jacket around his shoulders. "It's okay," the young man said as he wrapped the jacket tightly. "Aaron's looking for him. He'll find him."

Sam didn't really want to leave the fate of his brother in the hands of Aaron, who seemed like a grade A jerk, but he didn't really have a choice. He could barely catch his own breath, so he knew he would be of absolutely no help.

The next few minutes were some of the longest of Sam's life, and that was really saying something. With his family's history, there had been many times that one or the other of them had been in life-threatening situations. But those situations never seemed as hopeless as the one he currently found himself in. Maybe it was just because he himself felt so completely and utterly useless and helpless.

Just as he was about to throw himself back into the lake, breathlessness be damned, the surface broke to reveal a gasping Aaron holding tightly onto something. Sam's heart fluttered at the realization that the young man was holding onto a very still Dean Winchester.

Eventually, they were able to pull Dean into the boat and Sam wasted no time in checking his brother out. Seconds after determining that Dean didn't have a pulse and wasn't breathing, Sam started CPR. To his relief, the other young man in the boat was a certified lifeguard and immediately jumped in to help. Also to this relief, the other teenagers on the shore had called 911 for help and Sam could hear the faint, faint sound of the sirens as they approached the lake.

By the time the boat arrived back at the dock, there were two ambulances there waiting. The crew wasted no time in taking over CPR and Sam suddenly found himself watching helplessly as they worked on his brother.

Sam had no idea how long they worked on Dean, but eventually they were able to revive him. Wasting no time at all, the paramedics loaded Dean up into the first ambulance and took off, sirens blaring and lights flashing. By this time, the other ambulance crew turned their attention onto Sam, checking him out from head to toe before loading him up and following the other ambulance.

Sam arrived to the hospital almost twenty minutes after Dean, owing to the fact that they didn't go lights and sirens the whole way. Once they arrived in the ambulance bay, Sam immediately started asking anyone and everyone for information on his brother. His frustration was growing by the second as no one seemed to be able to answer him. Just as he was about to go off on someone, though, he heard a familiar voice.

"Sam? What are you doing back here? I thought I told you to take it easy for a few days."

Sam turned to find the familiar, friendly face of Dr. Porter.

"Dr. Porter! How's my brother doing? Is he okay?"

"Sam," Dr Porter said in a calm voice. "Let's get you checked out first and then I'll find out what I can about your brother, okay?"

"I'm fine," Sam immediately answered. "I just need to know how Dean is."

Dr. Porter almost laughed at what was happening. The scene was eerily similar to what had happened just days before, although Dean had been the one refusing treatment until he knew how his brother was. Dean had been a lot more insistent, though, in her opinion.

"Sam, I need to check you out. You're my patient right now and Dean is being checked out by my colleague, Dr. Anthony. He's in good hands."

Sam reluctantly allowed the doctor to check him out as he listened closely to the sounds going on in the room next to him. He could hear several different voices and what sounded like a controlled chaos, making him wonder if Dean was in the center of it all.

"Sam? Why don't you tell me what happened? Why does it look like you nearly drowned again? Please tell me you didn't go swimming again…."

Sam hadn't had any time at all to concoct a believable story, so he went with something as close to the truth as possible without sounding completely insane. After he was done, Dr. Porter looked concerned, confused, and frustrated.

"So, let me see if I got this straight. Your brother dropped you off back at school and not knowing that you were following him, he went back to the lake where he came upon some teenagers partying. He had to go into the lake to save one of them, but then you had to go in to save him, and then the teenagers ended up having to save the both of you? Did I get that right?"

"Close enough," Sam answered with chagrin. It sounded so much worse without all the actual details.

"Well, I really hope that the two of you have learned your lesson this time. And in the future, maybe you could just stay away from lakes."

After doing a few more things, Dr. Porter stepped out of his room to go and check on Dean. Sam waited nervously for what seemed like an eternity, but it wasn't long before the doctor returned. Sam could tell by the look on her face that it wasn't good news.

"How is he?" he asked immediately.

"He's alive," Dr. Porter answered. "But, Sam….he's in critical condition. He wasn't waking up and he wasn't breathing effectively, so Dr. Anthony decided to intubate him. He's on a ventilator, Sam. He has several broken ribs, probably from the chest compressions, and we're really not sure about his brain function. He might have been without oxygen for too long, Sam. He might not wake up."

Sam felt like his life was imploding, like everything was falling down around him. He found it hard to catch his breath, causing Dr. Porter to quickly put the head of his bed up as the nurse placed an oxygen mask on him.

"Sam, take some deep breaths for me, okay? Nice, slow, deep breaths. That's it. Just like that."

After a short time, Sam was able to breathe easily, prompting Dr. Porter to remove the mask from his face.

"Sam, it's still early on in this situation. And I already know that Dean is a fighter. He won't give up easily. We'll give him a little bit of time to rest and recover and then we'll try to wake him up. Until then, we just have to have a little bit of hope."

Sam wasn't sure if he had the strength to dredge up the last little bit of hope he had left, but he knew he would give it his best shot for Dean. He'd do anything for his brother, even if it meant he had to lie to himself.

* * *

The next time Dean became aware of anything, he realized that he was hurting. He couldn't tell exactly where the pain was coming from, just that he ached all over. In fact, Dean had a hard time discerning anything about his body other than that all-encompassing pain. He couldn't tell what position he was in or where his limbs were even located. _Did he even have arms and legs anymore? Was his head still connected to the rest of his body? Was his heart even beating?_

For a split second, he thought he might be dead. But, then he realized that he couldn't be so lucky. Every other time in his life where he thought he was dead, something had worked to bring him back to life. No, Dean Winchester knew that fate had other plans for him. His life wasn't going to end so easily.

With only his conscience to guide him, Dean pondered his predicament. He remembered going to the library to do some more research on the Stow Lake ghost and he remembered finding out something important, but that was it. He couldn't remember what it was he found or what he chose to do after that. And it pissed him off! He knew that whatever he had done after leaving the library had everything to do with the situation he was currently in.

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't come up with any answers. Panic started creeping in, but he quickly thought of something to calm himself down. _Sammy_. Dean felt relief wash over him as he remembered dropping his brother off at Stanford. _Sammy was safe_. _Sammy was where he was supposed to be_.

Dean knew that he could handle whatever was happening to him as long as he knew his little brother was safe. Taking some comfort in that knowledge, he allowed the darkness to overcome him again, finding at least some relief from the pain he was in.

* * *

The next time he woke up, Dean was more aware than ever of the situation he was in. He was in a near panic, realizing that he still had no idea what was going on or where he was. He had been trained to always make it his first priority to know his surroundings and situation, so the confusion he felt now was very disconcerting.

First of all, he couldn't seem to get his eyes to open, no matter how hard he tried. He felt like they were glued shut and that no amount of effort was going to make them open. After giving up on opening his eyes, he tried to move his arms and legs only to find that they were just as impervious to his efforts. This discovery made his uneasiness spike, but it also pissed him off. If there was one thing Dean Winchester hated, it was to be tied down or unable to move for any reason at all.

Once he realized that he wasn't going to be able to move, he stilled his mind and focused on what was going on around him. The first thing he became aware of was a brightness that lingered just beyond his closed eyelids. It reminded him of the few times he had fallen asleep on the hood of the Impala, eyes closed and sunlight beating down on him., its brightness penetrating the thin skin of his eyelids. He figured that if he could actually open his eyes, the brightness would have been uncomfortable.

Next, he noticed the sounds around him. At first it was just a low buzzing sound, but after concentrating for a few seconds, he could finally make out the sound of several different things. The bed he was laying on had a continuous low hum, the air in the air mattress rotating gently underneath him. Something to the right of his head gently beeped occasionally, a rhythm that seemed a little irregular at times, but steadfast.

There was a machine on the other side of him that made a "whooshing" noise every five seconds. It took Dean a minute or two to realize that the whooshing sound correlated with the air that was being pushed into his lungs and he found it to be extremely uncomfortable to have what he now knew was a ventilator breathing for him. In fact, it was so uncomfortable that he started to feel short of breath, like he just couldn't get enough air into his lungs. The feeling of shortness of breath made him speed up his respiratory rate, which in turn caused the ventilator to start alarming.

Before Dean knew what was happening, someone entered the room. He could hear whoever it was moving around his bed and he tried desperately and unsuccessfully to open his eyes. Eventually, he felt a warm hand touching his own hand.

"Dean, it's okay. You're in the hospital and I'm your nurse. My name is Emma. Can you squeeze my hand, Dean?"

He tried frantically to squeeze her hand, but he just couldn't do it. Instead, he started breathing even faster.

"Dean, I need you to calm down, okay? Everything's okay, you just need to calm down."

Dean was sure that Emma was a nice enough person, but he really, really wanted to yell at her. Everything wasn't okay. In fact, _nothing_ was okay. He was in the hospital, he couldn't move, and he had no idea where Sammy was. In fact, he had no idea at all what was going on.

As the anger built up inside of him at the situation he found himself in, Dean was finally able to open his eyes the tiniest bit. Unfortunately, even though they were slightly open, he couldn''t see a thing. Everything around him was blurry and much too bright. Emma seemed to realize that the lights were too bright for him, so she turned them down, bringing some relief to him.

Emma continued to ask him to do different things, simple things that really should have been easy. _Squeeze my hand. LIft your finger. Wiggle your toes. Open your eyes again._ Dean grew more and more frustrated when he couldn't do anything.

"It's okay, Dean," Emma said sweetly. "You've been through a bit of a trauma, sweetie, and it's going to take a while for you to get your strength back. You're just really weak right now."

Dean cringed at the sound of being called "sweetie" and at the idea of being thought of as weak. He knew the nurse didn't mean that he himself was weak, just that whatever happened had weakened him. LIke a normal human being.

Opening his eyes again, he watched as the nurse moved around his bed, doing whatever tasks she needed to do. He felt almost like he was having an out-of-body experience, because he watched as she lifted his arms and legs for range of motion exercises, but felt nothing. Other than opening his eyes, he couldn't move a single part of his body, and that terrified him. _Was he paralyzed? Was this how he was going to have to live the rest of his life? Helpless and pathetic?_

Emma seemed to pick up on his sense of desperation and tried to comfort him. "Don't worry, Dean. This is just temporary. You have a lot of medication on board, but once that wears off you'll start to get stronger. You'll see."

Dean wondered what type of medication she was talking about and was glad when she answered on her own a few seconds later.

"You're on what we call mechanical ventilation, Dean, because you weren't breathing effectively on your own when you first came in. And because it can be a little uncomfortable to have a ventilator breathing for you, we sedated you. The sedating medication has a little bit of an amnesia effect, so you might not remember a lot of the last several days."

 _Days? He had been out for days?_

"You've been here for almost three days, Dean. And, from what I hear, you're lucky to be alive. Apparently, you were at a lake not too far from here and you nearly drowned. Luckily, there were some kids there that were able to pull you out and call for help. If they hadn't acted so quickly, this would have all ended badly for both you and your brother."

At the mention of his brother, Dean flew into a full-on panic, somehow finding the strength to sit up in the bed, reaching for the tube in his mouth in the process. Fortunately, though he would never see it that way, his wrists were restrained to the bed for that very reason.

"Dean!" Emma cried as she gently pushed him back to the bed. "Dean, calm down! You're okay." Seconds later, she had pushed the call button and asked for someone to help her.

By the time everything was said and done, Emma and two other nurses had been able to keep Dean in the bed long enough for another nurse to increase his sedation and give him a push of another medication to calm him down quickly.

Dean felt the pressure of the nurses' hands release from his sore chest just as the medication kicked in, leaving him to once again fall into darkness. His last thought was of his brother.

" _Sammy, where are you?"_

* * *

Author's note: Well, here you go, y'all. Another chapter just in time to celebrate the New Year. One of my New Year's resolutions is to write more in 2018, so we'll see how it goes.

Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing. I love hearing your thoughts on the chapters/story. Just so you know, it really does help an author to shape a story into one that can be enjoyed.


	10. Tired Soldiers In This War

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 10

Tired Soldiers in this War

* * *

Sam wasn't happy to leave Dean's bedside, but the ICU required all visitors to leave the unit during shift change. Not wanting to be too far away, he usually spent the time in the ICU waiting room that was just down the hall. Luckily, they usually had a good supply of coffee available, so he would log in to the hospital's wi-fi and work on his homework. He knew his grades were suffering, but there was no way he was going back to school until Dean was better.

The ICU visiting hours started at eight o'clock in the morning, so at seven fifty-eight he made his way back to the ICU and asked to be let in. Sam was almost to his brother's room when he saw a nurse walking out the door. Quickening his pace, he managed to catch up with her before she went into another patient's room.

"How is he? Is everything okay?"

"Hi, there," she said with a smile. "I'm Emma. Can I ask how you're related to Dean?"

"I'm his brother. I'm Sam Winchester," Sam answered impatiently. "Is he okay?"

"He's doing good. He actually woke up for a few minutes."

"He's awake?" Sam asked as he pushed past her into the room.

Emma followed him back into Dean's room. "Mr. Winchester, he only woke up for a few minutes. He's still sedated, so he won't stay awake for long."

"Damn it!" Sam growled. "I should have been here when he woke up."

"He'll wake up again, Mr. Winchester. In fact, we're going to turn his sedation down a little later on when Dr. Chase shows up. He wants to evaluate your brother a little better. Until then, we'll let him rest.

Sam settled into a chair next to Dean's bed, his eyes taking in the sight of his brother's slack face. He hated seeing Dean so lifeless. _It was just so un-Dean like!_ For as long as Sam could remember, his brother had always been so full of life, always in motion, never still. In fact, he was pretty sure that Dean had some version of ADHD, undiagnosed of course.

Dean was never one to stay still for too long. He usually only slept three to four hours at a time and from the time he woke up to the time he laid back down to sleep, he was constant motion. If he was ever doing something that required him to sit down, he was usually doing something to keep his hands busy. He would clean his guns while watching TV, tap his foot while reading the paper, drum his fingers on whatever surface was nearby whenever he was deep in a conversation. Being around Dean could be exhausting in its own way and Sam could remember many a time when their dad would throw his brother out of the room when his constant activity got to be too much.

Of course, once Dean started hunting, he found ways to keep himself still and focused. Sam could often hear him humming an AC/DC or Metallica tune quietly under his breath, something that drove their dad crazy, too, but he seemed to tolerate it a little better than the constant motion.

Seeing Dean so motionless and so still was just plain unnerving to Sam. Even the rise and fall of his chest was so much _less_ than normal. Dean's presence, once so immense and powerful, was now just a muted shadow of what once was. And Sam knew he was being dramatic, but everything around him- colors...sounds...everything…. seemed just as muted because of it.

A world without Dean's vibrancy was a world that Sam really didn't want to be a part of.

* * *

It was almost a full three hours later when the doctor finally showed up. Sam was starting to get antsy, because in that time, Dean hadn't moved a single muscle. The blips on the heart monitor stayed at a steady rate of 70, the ventilator delivered every breath without a hitch, and the IV pumps next to the bed delivered drop after drop of the milky white drug that was keeping Dean from waking up. Sam found himself tempted to reach over and turn the pump off himself, but he would never do anything that might potentially hurt his brother.

Once the doctor arrived, Emma explained to Sam that they would slowly titrate the medication down, allowing Dean to wake up in a slower, more controlled manner. Sam watched as she changed the settings on the IV pump and checked the wrist restraints that were tying Dean's hands down to the bed.

"Take those off. He won't like it if he wakes up and finds out that he's tied down."

"Mr. Winchester, Dean will more than likely wake up a little confused, so it's our policy to have these restraints on to prevent him pulling out the ET tube himself. Once he's awake and oriented to what is going on around him, we can take them off."

"I won't let him pull out the tube," Sam argued. "Take them off."

Emma looked at Dr. Chase, who gave her a small shake of his head. Turning back to Sam, she eyed him closely, not wanting to upset the young man. "Okay, Sam, I'll make you a deal. Let's leave them on for now, but I'll take them off as soon as Dean is able to open his eyes and follow some simple commands."

Sam could tell he was outnumbered, so he gave in. "The second he opens his eyes, they're coming off."

Sam watched as Dr. Chase moved around the bed, checking Dean out from head to toe. Dean still hadn't shown any signs of waking up, so Emma turned the medication down even further. Eventually, the medication was turned completely off, but Dean was still motionless.

Sam sat forward in his chair, his eyes planted firmly on his brother. "Why isn't he waking up?"

"Sometimes it just takes a little longer," Emma answered. "He just needs a little more time."

Dr. Chase finished his exam and asked Emma to page him once Dean was awake. As he left the room, Sam turned back to the nurse. "Are you sure he's going to wake up? What if there's something wrong that we don't know about? What if he doesn't wake up?"

"Mr. Winchester….Sam… we need to be patient."

Sam made himself sit back in his chair, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. He did this for several minutes, surprised to find that it was working to a small degree. Dean's chest rose and fell in a steady fashion and Sam found himself mesmerized by the routine of it. Eventually, though, he noticed that thy rhythm of inhalation and exhalation was speeding up and Dean's chest was rising and falling faster than before.

Sitting forward in his chair again, Sam found himself holding his breath in anticipation. The heart monitor next to the bed showed Dean's heart rate speeding up slightly, too, and Sam felt anxiety creeping into him. More than anything, he wanted Dean to open his eyes, wanted to be able to peer into those rich green irises that always seemed to see everything.

After a few minutes, Sam noticed as Dean's right hand started moving slightly, the fingers twitching minutely before bending and straightening a few times. Sam grabbed his brother's hand, holding onto it tightly. He was surprised by how cold Dean's hands were.

"Dean! I'm here, Dean. You're okay." When it seemed like Dean wasn't going to do anything else at the moment, Sam turned back to Emma.

"Why are his hands so cold?" he asked the nurse.

"Are they?" Emma reached over and touched Dean's other hand. "They do seem awfully cold," she said as she moved to check the pulses in his wrists. Satisfied with what she found, she grabbed a thermometer and checked Dean's temperature.

"Well, that's odd," she said strangely. "I checked his temp an hour ago and he was normal. Now he's reading quite a bit lower."

Sam watched as Emma pulled the blanket up around Dean further before leaving to get a warmed blanket. The minute she left, Sam noticed the temperature of the room drop significantly. Pulling his jacket a little tighter around himself, he stood up and looked around. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary in the room at first, but just as he was about to sit back down in his chair, he noticed something on the other side of Dean's bed. There wasn't anything that he could really pinpoint as something real, but he noticed an area that seemed to be _shimmering?_

"What the hell?!" he exclaimed before getting up and moving around the bed. He was almost to the spot where he thought he'd seen something when the alarms on the ventilator and the heart monitor started going crazy. Sam looked over at Dean who appeared unchanged in all the chaos, much to his relief. Seconds before the door flew open and several nurses ran into the room, Sam heard a voice that chilled him to the bone.

" _He can't have you. You're mine. He has to die."_

* * *

Dean suddenly became aware of what he thought were voices surrounding him. He strained with all his might to listen, to make out what he thought were words being drowned out by the thudding of his own heart and the whirring and beeping noises of the various pieces of equipment that were keeping him alive. After what seemed an eternity to him, he was able to finally make out three distinct voices. The first one was a rather curt voice, telling him to wake up, to wiggle his toes, to squeeze his hands. The second voice was a much softer, much more pleasant voice that he thought he recognized. This voice was calming and reassuring, making him think that everything was going to be okay. But, it was the third voice that confused him the most. It took him several long minutes to separate that voice from the other two, but when he did he was able to hear the anxiety and fear in the deep bass sound.

It only took him a few more seconds to realize that he was hearing the sound of his little brother's voice. " _Sammy!"_ Dean tried as hard as he could to signal to Sam that he was there, that he was trying to wake up, but all he could accomplish was to make himself breathe a little faster. With his frustration growing to a whole new level, Dean kept trying. Eventually, he was able to make his index finger twitch a little, but Sam didn't seem to notice. Not ready to give up yet, Dean kept trying, satisfied when he was finally able to bend and straighten his fingers a few times. Relief coursed through him when he felt Sam pick up his hand and squeeze it tightly.

He listened as Sam talked to him, trying to move again so Sam would know he was there. His frustration returned when he found that he couldn't seem to do anything. It was like moving his fingers had zapped all of his strength for the moment. He could hear Sam talking to the nurse again, asking her why his hands were so cold.

" _Come on, Sam. What the hell does it matter if my hands are cold? There are much more important things to focus on."_

Focusing on what was going on around him, Dean felt someone tuck his blanket in a little tighter. He had to admit that he was a little cold, so the blanket felt nice. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. He heard the nurse tell Sam that she was going to grab a nice warm blanket and then he realized that he and Sam were left alone again.

Dean was frantically trying to figure out how he was going to get a message to his little brother when he heard Sam get up out of his chair and move around. Sam's "what the hell?" echoed in the small room and Dean felt his 'spidey sense' tingling. Suddenly, every alarm in the room blared, causing Dean's heart to speed up in response. Not liking the fact that his brother was dealing with something potentially dangerous on his own, Dean tried with everything he had to get out of bed. He was able to lift his head off the bed slightly, but he suddenly realized that his hands were tied down to the bed. Before he even had a chance to be pissed at the thought of them restraining him in such a way, he heard that same voice that seemed to be haunting his every dream.

" _He can't have you. You're mine. He has to die."_

Seconds later, Dean felt himself falling back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Once the nurses decided that everything was okay and that it seemed that all the equipment in the room decided to malfunction at the same time, they all left, leaving Sam alone with Dean.

Sam was still pretty shaken by what he had seen and heard, but he couldn't do anything about it. He longed to talk to Dean about what had happened. Dean would know what to do. He always knew what to do. Sam found himself so freaked out by the experience that he even contemplated calling his dad.

Instead, he waited by Dean's bed and watched his brother closely. His eyes swept from the still form in the bed to the corners of the room, looking for anything unusual. After spending almost half an hour of doing that, he sat back in his chair and stared at his brother.

"Come on, Dean. Wake up!"

The sound of his tired voice echoed in the stillness of the room, surprising him a little. He hadn't realized how quiet the room had become, once everyone had disappeared. And with no one to talk to, Sam returned his weary gaze to the one person he needed the most in the world.

"Come on, big brother. I need you."

* * *

Dean had no idea how much time had passed since the last time he was awake, but he could feel his brother's presence still in the room. He heard the sound of his brother talking with another person, a voice that he though he'd heard before, and he strained to hear what they were saying. He was startled to hear the sound of defeat in his brother's voice.

"Are you sure he's going to wake up, Dr. Chase?"

"I can't say for sure, Sam, but in my professional opinion, he will. Every patient is different, so I can't give you a time frame, but your brother is a strong young man. He'll pull through."

"And he'll be okay? He'll still be….Dean?"

"I'm going to be honest with you, Sam. Your brother was underwater and without oxygen for a long time. He could definitely have some neurological deficits from the anoxic injury, but we won't know for sure until he wakes up. We need to take this one day at a time, okay? In fact, we need to take this one minute at a time."

"I'm trying," Sam said.

"I know you are. I also know that you aren't taking very good care of yourself. The nurses tell me that you hardly ever leave his bedside. When was the last time you slept or ate a good meal?"

"I'll eat and sleep once we know he's okay."

"You have to take care of yourself, Sam. Dean's going to need you to be strong and healthy once he's awake."

Dean listened as Sam agreed to take better care of himself, knowing that his brother was lying to the doctor. Sam didn't take the best care of himself on a good day. This had always been a subject of contention between the two brothers, with Dean always harping on Sam to eat and to sleep more than he did. Sam was stubborn, but Dean was even more so.

Once the doctor left, Dean heard Sam settle into the chair next to his bed. He could practically feel his brother's gaze burning into him, making him want to slap Sam on the back of the head. Dean hated being gawked at. He hated it even more when someone saw him being so weak and helpless. Determined to get Sam to stop staring at him, Dean started working again to prove to his brother that he was there.

It took every last bit of strength he had, but Dean was finally able to open his eyes. They burned in the brightness of the lights of the room, causing tears to fill his eyes. Dean moved his gaze over to where his brother was and was relieved to see Sam's hazel eyes looking back at him.

"Dean?" Sam cried out as he jumped up from his chair. "Dean, I'm here. You're okay."

Dean held his brother's gaze, not wanting to look away for even a single second. He wanted so badly to be able to talk to his brother, but he couldn't. All he could do at the moment was try to stay awake and alert for as long as he could, something that was proving harder by the second.

"Are you hurting, Dean? Can you blink your answer? Once for yes, twice for no?"

Dean _was_ hurting, but the last thing he wanted was for the nurse to give him anymore medication. He wanted to try to keep his head as clear as he could, so he'd just suffer through the pain. Blinking his eyes twice for no, Dean waited for Sam to ask him something else.

"Dude, you've been out of it for almost four days. Do you have any idea how much I've missed you?."

This time Dean only blinked once.

"It's so good to have you back, big brother."

Dean's eyes were getting heavier and heavier, and eventually he wasn't able to keep them open any longer. The last thing he was aware of was the sound of his brother's voice offering him reassurance.

"It's okay, Dean. Go back to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up again."

* * *

Author's note: Yay! Dean's starting to wake up. I wasn't really sure if that was ever going to happen ;)

Thanks so much for reading. I hope that you're all enjoying the story and that the characters are all staying true to themselves. Let me know what you think. Like it? Love it? Hate it? Want more? Ready for it to be over?

And I just wanted to say thanks to those of you who are reviewing. Rosegirl94, reader82, monesbitt2010, freetobescary, redlite, dragonfox123, grishma239, zendog, femkesmedinga, Scarlett Banderson, Kathy, and guest- you are all greatly appreciated.


	11. Remember What We're Fighting For

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 11

Remember What We're Fighting For

* * *

The next few days were extremely long, exhausting, and scary. Strange things had been happening around Dean, and Sam found that he had to be constantly on high alert to keep his brother safe. The hospital staff were amazing in the care they provided to his brother, but there were strange happenings of the supernatural variety that were a constant threat to Dean. The nurses were constantly complaining about how cold it was in his room, no matter how often they turned up the heat. And things were constantly going missing in the room. One of the nurses even joked that the room must be haunted.

After the event where all the alarms in the room went berserk and the ghostly voice had threatened his brother, Sam had found it difficult to leave Dean's bedside. He slept an hour or two each night in a chair next to Dean's bed. He washed up in the bathroom sink and somehow talked the staff into bringing him sandwiches and coffee, so he would rarely have to leave Dean alone.

Of course, the staff still made him leave during their change of shift, but Sam never went any further than right outside the ICU doors. It was during one of those times that Dean almost died.

* * *

Sam had been waiting outside the doors for almost an hour when he heard a Code Blue called overhead. It took him a few long seconds to realize that the room they called was Dean's room. He immediately rang the bell to be let back into the ICU, but no one answered. Nearly in a panic, Sam grabbed the doors and yanked on them as hard as he could, not surprised when they didn't open. Just as he was about to give up, a string of people ran into the ICU, responding to the call, and right before the door closed, Sam stuck his foot out, keeping the door from closing all the way.

Without bringing any attention to himself, he slipped through the door and made his way to his brother's room. There were at least seven people in the room, moving around Dean's bed so quickly that he couldn't even catch a glimpse of his brother. Each person seemed to have a specific job and no one had noticed yet that he was standing there.

Sam felt so completely helpless as he watched the team of doctors, nurses, and respiratory therapists trying to save his brother's life. He picked up a few words here and there, but he still had no idea what had happened. Dean was doing fine when he left the room earlier. _What had happened?!_ The night shift nurse had just made her last round of the night, repositioning Dean and checking all of his equipment and medications. On her way out, she had encouraged Sam to go down to the cafeteria to get a decent breakfast, reassuring him that Dean was doing great at the moment.

And now he wasn't. In fact, he was as far away from "great" as he could be without being dead.

As Sam continued to watch the controlled chaos of the Code Blue, he realized that the room was unusually cold again. So cold, in fact, that he could see his breath hanging in the air. With all the voices carrying out orders and commands around the bed, he barely made out the voice that was beginning to haunt his every waking moment.

" _He has to die. He has to die..."_

Sam looked frantically around the room, looking for anything that would tell him where the ghost was. With so much frantic movement, he couldn't see anything unusual, instead, he listened again as hard as he could for the voice. Eventually, and to his utmost horror, he once again made out the gentle sussurations of the ghostly voice, repeating over and over those words that chilled him to the bone. " _He has to die…. He has to die… He has to die…"_ Each statement made in time to the chest compressions trying to restart Dean's heart. Each statement laying claim to the most important person in Sam's life. No one else seemed to notice the cold sound. No one else knew just what they were up against. No one else could help him save his brother from this particular danger.

Eventually, they were able to resuscitate Dean, and once that had happened, one of the nurses turned to find Sam standing at the doorway, giving him a concerned look.

"What happened?" Sam asked immediately. "Is he okay?"

The nurse gently moved Sam through the doorway and over to a corner of the room. She quickly introduced Sam to the doctor that had been running the Code Blue.

"Sam, this is Dr. Fisher."

"Mr. Winchester, I'm an ER physician. I responded to the Code Blue that was called on your brother."

"How is he?" Sam asked again. He didn't care who the man was, he just needed to know that Dean was okay.

"He's okay now. It looks like he had a respiratory arrest that led to a cardiac arrest. We did several rounds of CPR and gave him a few different medications to get him back. Right now, he's stable."

"I don't understand," Sam said. "How could he have a respiratory arrest when he's on the ventilator? I thought the ventilator was breathing for him."

Dr. Fisher shared a look with Dean's nurse. "It _is_ breathing for him, but there was a malfunction. As far as we can tell, there were actually several malfunctions with the equipment in your brother's room. We can't explain it, Mr. Winchester, but when the nurses responded to the alarms, they noticed that the ventilator was turned off and the IV pump that was delivering Dean's sedation medication had also malfunctioned. The IV pump rate had somehow increased to a lethal dose, causing Dean to stop breathing. Without the ventilator to back him up, he arrested. We can't explain it, but I can assure you that we are checking into it. Your brother is going to be moved to another room and we will replace every piece of equipment. This won't happen again."

Sam wished that he could believe them, but he knew that there were much more sinister things at work than just faulty equipment. Of course, he couldn't tell them that, so instead he accepted their apologies and reassurances. And he made them agree to let him stay in Dean's room from that point forward. There was no way he was ever leaving Dean alone again.

After the respiratory/cardiac arrest, Dean suffered some major setbacks. Because of the effects of the near lethal dose of sedatives, Dean's blood pressure tanked to critical levels. This change in vital signs necessitated the addition of another drug to stabilize his blood pressure, which necessitated the insertion of a central venous catheter into his neck.

Dr. Chase also informed Sam that Dean's kidneys had also been affected by the recent events and that he was now in acute kidney failure. The talk of possible dialysis in his brother's future made Sam feel acutely ill. _How was he supposed to make these types of decisions on his own?_

Sam knew he should call his dad, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Part of it was that he wasn't confident that the man would actually stop whatever he was doing to come to check on his son. _Like any other father would without hesitation._

Sam didn't want to have to explain to his brother when he woke up that John had been called but hadn't deemed him worthy enough to actually show up. He knew what that would do to Dean and he wouldn't be a part of it. So, he didn't call. Instead, he signed all the appropriate forms, giving permission to put the central venous catheter in or to start dialysis, if needed. It was up to him to do what was right for his brother and he wouldn't shirk his responsibility to his brother. Ever.

* * *

It was almost a week later before Dean was finally ready to come off the ventilator, thanks to a severe case of pneumonia he contracted after his near-drowning. Sam was pretty sure that the doctors were being extra cautious, too, after Dean's recent complications. Luckily, Dean hadn't needed dialysis. His kidney failure and hypotension had resolved with whatever medications and treatments Dr. Chase had provided, much to Sam's relief. Sam was sure he hadn't ever seen his brother so weakened, though, and it really scared him.

Of course, what scared him even more, was the fact that he had received several phone calls from their dad. The first two calls were from a few days before. Sam recognized the number and wondered how John had even found his number. When he left for Stanford, he left his old phone behind, not wanting his dad to be able to find him easily. With some of the money Dean had given him the night he left, he bought himself a new phone and immediately called Dean to give him his new number. He remembered making Dean promise not to share the new number with their father and he was pretty sure that Dean hadn't broken that promise.

But, nevertheless, now John was calling him. At first, he didn't leave any messages, but by the fourth call, he was leaving long, detailed messages of how worried he was that Dean wasn't returning his calls. Sam was surprised to hear the desperation in his father's voice, begging him to call him back as soon as possible.

But, he couldn't do it. No matter how much he knew that he should call his dad back, he couldn't make himself do it. The last thing he needed at the moment was to hear John Winchester's voice. Actually, the last thing he needed was to have John Winchester suddenly showing up at his doorstep, disrupting the life he had built for himself. John was particularly good at that.

Deep down, Sam knew that that was exactly what was going to happen, though, if he didn't answer the next call and throw the man off their track. Sam had no idea what was going on between his brother and father, but he knew that Dean wasn't acting like John's good little soldier at the moment. In fact, he had been surprised when he listened to Dean lying to John last week. _What had happened between the two of them?!_ He really had no idea and didn't think it was the appropriate time to ask his brother.

Dean was still out of it, for the most part. He would have periods of lucidity that lasted for several minutes, but then his eyes would lose focus and he would succumb to sleep again. Dr. Chase informed Sam that this was perfectly normal in the beginning and that Dean would eventually start to stay awake for longer periods. Sam found that he couldn't wait for that moment. He had missed his brother's goofy grin.

* * *

Two days later, Dean was finally back to his normal self. Sam wasn't surprised to find that it didn't take long for his brother to become everyone's favorite patient, especially every female on staff that came into contact with him. The nurses argued over who was going to take care of him, especially when it was bath time. Dean, of course, loved the attention, getting back rub after back rub from the all too willing providers.

Sam was embarrassed by the blatant flirting going on between Dean and practically everyone that walked into his room. Even Dr. Chase was taken in by Dean's charm, allowing his patient to move on to a regular diet far sooner than he would any other recently intubated, near death patient. He also allowed the nurse to remove Dean's urine catheter earlier than normal. Dean could be extremely persuasive when he needed to be.

Eventually, just as Sam predicted, Dean became more and more restless. He knew that staring at the same four walls for long periods of time was never a good idea for the overly energetic, usually hyperactive hunter. The problem was that he still couldn't walk much further than from the bed to the bathroom without needing to take a break.

Several times a day, Dean was taken down to the physical therapy room, giving him a slight reprieve from the monotony. Dean made the most of this little field trip, working hard to get himself back into fighting shape. Sam usually accompanied his brother during that time, not wanting to let him out of his sight, but one day he decided to stay behind in Dean's room and make a call to their dad. He would much prefer to do that when Dean wasn't around. He also felt safe to let Dean out of his sight for a few minutes, since the ghost hadn't shown itself since the whole Code Blue situation.

After several failed attempts of dialing his dad's number, Sam finally succeeded, only to hang up after the first ring. His heart was pounding and his mouth had suddenly gone completely dry at the thought of talking to his father. Unfortunately, only a few seconds passed before _his_ phone rang and he wasn't surprised to see that it was John calling.

After several rings and several deep breaths, he finally answered it.

"Hey, Dad."

"Sam? What the hell is going on out there?! How come you haven't returned any of my calls? I must have left at least ten messages for you."

"Uh...I'm sorry, Dad. I, uh….I lost my phone about a week ago and I just found it." Sam knew that was a flimsy story, but that's all he could think of.

John, believe it or not, pushed the excuse aside, focusing on the real reason he had been calling. "Have you heard from your brother? I talked to him over a week ago, but he's not answering his phone either. He's supposed to be working a job in Nevada, but he never showed up."

Sam had no idea how to handle this situation and wished that he would have taken more time to figure things out. He knew how perceptive his dad was and didn't think he was going to be easily fooled, but what choice did he have? Part of him knew that he should be honest with the man, but he couldn't bring himself to tell his dad everything that was happening. _Not yet._

Apparently, he took too long to answer, because his father's annoyed voiced sounded loudly in his ear. "Sam?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm here. I, uh… I talked to Dean sometime last week. He said he was working on a job in Oregon and that it was taking a little longer than he thought it would. He also said something about needing to, uh….maybe buy a new phone soon. Said his was acting up or something."

"That's damn irresponsible of him," John growled. "He knows better than to be incommunicado like that for so long."

Sam didn't know how to respond to that, so he just didn't reply. Eventually, John continued.

"How are you doing, son? We haven't talked in a while."

Sam was annoyed, but not surprised, by the lack of guilt in his father's voice. He wanted so badly to remind the man that he had been the one to practically cut off all ties between them the night Sam had left.

"I'm good, Dad. You know, just going to school and trying to keep up with everything." Sam was sure he heard his father scoff at that, but chose to ignore it.

"When are you going to come home, Sam?" John asked, after a long, uncomfortable pause. "Your brother needs you."

It didn't escape his notice that John left himself out of that equation. He wondered, not for the first time, why the man felt it so difficult to show any type of vulnerability to his sons.

"I'm not coming home, Dad. I still have two years left here before I get into law school."

"You're serious about this? About becoming a damn lawyer? Sam, what about hunting? What about the family business?"

"I _am_ serious, Dad. I'm going to finish school."

"I don't understand you, boy. You weren't raised like this."

"How do you know how I was raised, Dad? You missed most of my childhood while you were out on your precious hunts. Dean is the one who raised me. And he raised me to think for myself and to be whoever I wanted to be."

After a long silence, John let out a deep breath. "Listen, if you hear from your brother, you tell him to call me. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," Sam replied automatically. Seconds later, the call disconnected.

* * *

Dean rolled into his hospital room just as Sam lowered his phone. He could tell right away that something was wrong with his brother.

"Sammy? What's wrong?"

Sam turned to look at Dean, happy to see the healthy glow that was returning to his brother's once sallow face. "Hey, Dean. You're already done?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "Clark had to leave early because his wife went into labor. Who were you talking to, Sammy? You look upset."

"It's nothing, Dean. I was, uh… talking to one of my professors about a class. He was concerned that I haven't been in class for so long."

A guilty look covered Dean's face immediately. "Damn it, Sam. I didn't even think about how much time you've been missing at school."

"It's okay. My friends have been emailing me all the assignments and I've been in touch with my professors and the Dean of Students. It's not ideal to miss so much class time, but they understand that I had a family emergency."

"Are you sure, dude? Because, I'm perfectly fine with you heading back to school."

Dean's words sounded honest, but Sam knew that his brother didn't really want to be left alone.

"It's fine, Dean. Dr. Chase said you'll probably be out of here in a few days anyway. Once I get you settled in my apartment, I can start going back to class."

"I'm not going back to your apartment, Sam. I'll just stay at a motel until I'm strong enough to get back to the hunt."

Sam's eyes widened at his brother's words. "Dean, you can't be serious! You're not going back out to that lake. No way am I letting that happen."

"It's not up to you, Sammy-boy. Last time I checked, I'm a grown man."

"Yeah, you're a grown man that almost died recently."

"Part of the job, little bro. Nothing new, right?"

Sam was completely exasperated with his brother. "Dean, I know you've had your fair share of injuries while hunting, but this was different. You almost died multiple times. It wasn't like just getting mauled by a Wendigo and needing a few stitches. Your heart stopped beating! You were on life support!"

"Sam, come on. Don't get your panties in a twist. I'm fine now, see?" Dean held his arms out before putting them back on the wheelchair wheels and turning around in a circle.

"You're in a wheelchair, Dean. You can't walk more than fifty feet without almost passing out."

"Hey, that was yesterday, dude. Today I walked almost a hundred feet all by myself."

Sam couldn't help but smile at the goofy, proud grin on his brother's face. He found it nearly impossible to stay mad at his brother. But, that didn't mean he was going to give in to him so easily. "You're an idiot…..dude," he said fondly.

* * *

Author's note: Well, I thought about leaving you all on a cliffhanger, but decided to give you a somewhat happy chapter ending, instead. I hope that doesn't disappoint you all.

This story really seems to be writing itself, so I had no idea John was going to make an appearance in this chapter. What did you all think of him? I'm trying to keep him in character, but it's a little hard. The show doesn't really show much of him, so all of my opinions of his character are derived from the way Sam and Dean talk about him. While I don't think he's a bad guy, per se, I do think that his parenting skills left a lot to be desired. That doesn't mean that I don't think he's redeemable. Just so you know.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And I would love it if you left a quick review. Thanks so, so much for sticking with me on this. I really have no idea what I'm doing, lol.


	12. Meet Me on the Battlefield

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 12

Meet Me on the Battlefield

* * *

It was almost a week later when Dean was finally released from the hospital with strict orders from Dr. Chase to rest. Of course, Sam knew that his brother had no intention of resting. That wasn't Dean's style, unfortunately.

The week leading up to Dean's release had been a busy one. Dean was busy for hours at a time doing his physical and occupational therapy, and during those times, Sam attended as many of his classes as he could. He had fallen a little bit behind, but after talking with his professors, he had a plan for getting caught up. He just had to put in the extra work.

After leaving the hospital, Dean refused to go to Sam's apartment. Instead, he opted to return to the motel he had been staying in. Sam had made sure to return to the motel earlier and pay for the next two weeks, so Dean's stuff was left untouched in his room.

They made a quick stop at the nearest grocery store, stocking up on some groceries and beer. Once they arrived back at the room, Dean settled in on one of the beds and turned on the television. He wouldn't admit it, but the trip to the grocery store had taken a lot out of him, leaving him a little breathless and weak.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked his brother, worry heavy in his voice.

"I'm fine," Dean answered immediately, giving Sam the answer he knew was coming.

"Dean…"

"I said I'm fine, Sammy. Leave it alone."

"Fine," Sam growled. "So, what are we going to do now?"

"I already told you _. I'm_ going back to the lake. _You're_ going back to school."

"Dean, are we going to have this argument over and over again? I tell you that you can't go to the lake? You tell me that I can't go? Over and over again? It's never going to end."

"Sure, it is. I'm going to the lake. You're going to school. The end."

"Not going to happen, Dean. I'm not letting you go back to the lake by yourself."

"And I'm not going to let you go back to the lake at all." Dean glared at his brother. "It's too dangerous, Sam."

"Well, if it's too dangerous maybe we should just forget about it. Or call Dad."

"No way! We're not calling Dad!"

"Dean…"

"Sam, we're not calling Dad. And we're not going to just forget about it, either."

"So, I guess that means we're going back to the lake together."

"I guess it does. But we're sticking together this time. No splitting up. You're not leaving my sight, Sammy."

"Fine," Sammy answered. "Let's give it a few days, though, okay? Build up your strength a little more."

"Fine," Dean echoed. "But, before we head back to the lake, there's something we should check out."

Sam listened as Dean explained what he had learned at the library. "So, you think this abandoned baby is somehow connected to our ghost?"

"It could be, right? I mean, I know it's a stretch, but it could be connected. The lady's baby goes missing and then just a few towns over a baby is left abandoned? Too much of a coincidence, if you ask me."

"I don't know, Dean. It's a far stretch, but I guess it won't hurt to check it out. Do you have an address or phone number?"

"Both," Dean admitted. "But, I thought it would be better to just show up at his house. If we call ahead of time, what would we say that wouldn't scare the man off? Hey, dude, we think you might be related to a ghost that's killing people and we could use your help?"

"Yeah, it's probably better to just show up," Sam agreed with a laugh.

* * *

Dean wasn't really sure how he expected the conversation with the ghost's descendant to go, but he wasn't completely surprised when the man kicked them out of his house after only ten minutes. Dean had been smart enough to let Sam do most of the talking and at first it looked like it was working. The man was interested in what they were saying right up until the point where they mentioned that he was the ghost's lost great-great-grand baby. From that point on, the man thought they were just plain crazy and no amount of begging or explaining was going to change his mind.

So, they left.

Sam thought that at one point it looked like his brother was going to pull out his gun and make the man help them, so once they were safely back in the Impala, he let out a deep sigh.

"Well, that was completely pointless," Dean growled.

"Dean, what did you expect? We just told the man that it was a distinct possibility that his biological great-great-grandmother was a killer ghost. How did you expect him to take it?"

"I don't know. I just thought that maybe he would be the kind of guy that would do the right thing."

"But, what even is the right thing here, Dean? We don't even know if him confronting the ghost will work. I mean, she seems fixated on me, so what if she doesn't believe him? And what if he's not even her descendant? Then what?"

I don't know, Sammy! All I know is that my head hurts, I'm hungry, and I'm tired. Oh, and I'm really tired of this ghost kicking our butts. We have to come up with a plan."

"We will. It's just going to take some time."

"Time we don't have," Dean growled. "You're missing too much school, Sammy. And if I don't show up in Nevada soon, Dad's going to get suspicious. The last thing we need is for him to show up here."

Just as Dean said that, they pulled into the parking lot of the motel. The parking lot was nearly empty so it was weird to see that someone was parked in their parking spot.

"What the hell?" Dean said angrily. "They have the whole parking lot and they decide to park in our spot?"

"Just park somewhere else, Dean. It's not that big a deal."

"Yes, it is, Sam. I'd like to keep the Impala where I can keep an eye on her."

"Just park in the next space. You can still see her from the room, I'm sure."

Dean pulled in smoothly next to the beat up old Corolla, feigning disdain at the amount of dents and scratches he saw. "They obviously don't care about their car. I better not find any door dings on Baby in the morning."

Sam rolled his eyes as he walked over to the door to their room and stuck the key in the lock. Seconds later, he pushed open the door, stepped inside, and abruptly stopped, causing Dean to barrel into the back of him.

"What the hell, dude?" Dean cried out when he suddenly slammed into his brother's still form. Once he pulled himself back up, he looked into the room to see what had Sam so freaked. With one hand on his gun and the other on his brother's shoulder, he stepped around Sam, only to come face to face with the last person he expected to see.

"Dad?"

* * *

"Hello, boys," John said in what could only be taken as an angry voice. "Get in here and close the door. You're letting all the bugs in."

Dean and Sam stepped completely into the room and Sam closed the door behind him. They both stood awkwardly in front of John, wondering how the man had found them. Dean hated how his dad could still make him feel like he was five years old and had just been caught stealing a cookie out of the cookie jar. _Not that they ever had a cookie jar._

"What the hell is going on here?" John nearly yelled. "Dean, I've been trying to call you for over a week now. Sam said your phone wasn't working, so why didn't you get a new one? And Sam, you lied to me. You said you hadn't seen your brother."

Dean looked between his brother and his father in complete confusion. _Sam said?_ _When did Sam talk to their dad?_ Dean turned to face his brother, who was currently staring down at the carpet. "Sam? What is he talking about? When did you talk to Dad?"

"Why am I surprised he didn't tell you?!" John said before Sam could answer. "It seems that both of you have been keeping secrets from me. Not to mention that you both straight up lied to me."

"Dad," Dean started, but was quickly cut off by John.

"I don't want to hear excuses, son. I just want to know what the hell you two have been up to here."

Sam and Dean shared a quick look before they both turned back to John. Dean stepped further into the room, suddenly feeling like he really needed to sit down. Stepping over to the bed, Dean sank down onto it, pulling his feet up on the bed as he leaned against the headboard. John looked at him like he had suddenly grown two heads.

"Go ahead and settle in, Dean. I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable while you're explaining to me why you've disobeyed me. Again."

Dean quickly jumped to his feet, causing his head to spin and his vision to darken slightly. Sam rushed over to his side, worried that his brother was going to pass out at any time.

"I'm fine, Sam," Dean said as he lightly pushed his brother away. "And Dad, I didn't lie to you. I told you I was working a job, remember?"

"Yeah, you said you were working a job. In Oregon. Does this look like Oregon to you, Dean? Did you skip geography class the day they discussed the West Coast?"

"I, uh….I _was_ in Oregon, Dad. Then I came here."

"And Sam?"

"He didn't know I was here, Dad. I came here just to make sure he was okay. But, after that, I found a case here. I couldn't leave without working the case. People were dying."

"Why didn't you just tell me that?" John asked impatiently. "Why did you have to lie about it? Didn't you think I'd be worried about you when you didn't return any of my calls?"

"I knew you were going to order me to go somewhere else, Dad. And I wasn't ready to go. I needed to finish the job."

"And did you? Finish the job?"

Sam and Dean shared another look. "No, sir," Dean answered. "But, we're working on it. Right, Sam?"

"Your brother is helping you?" John asked incredulously. "I thought you were done with hunting, Sam. Isn't that what you said when you left?"

"I changed my mind. Dean needed my help, Dad."

John turned his gaze back to his oldest son. "Why didn't you ask me for help?"

Sam was surprised to see the look of anger that crossed his brother's face. "Why would I do that, Dad?" Dean asked angrily. "You made it perfectly clear in Oregon that you didn't want or need my help, remember? You left me, so I figured that you wouldn't want to join me in a hunt. Was I wrong?"

"I would have come if you'd asked, Dean."

"Yeah. Well, I didn't ask, so…."

"I don't appreciate your attitude, son," John said in a low voice.

"Yeah, well I didn't appreciate waking up in that motel to find that you left me again. I was hurt, Dad. I needed help."

"I had to go, Dean. But, I made sure you were okay before I left."

"Wait," Sam interrupted. "You just left him? He was hurt and you just left him alone?"

"I was fine, Sam," Dean said, trying to prevent a full blown Sam and John Winchester fight.

"It doesn't matter, Dean. You shouldn't have been left alone."

"He wouldn't have been alone if you hadn't left, Sam," John said angrily.

"Stop!" Dean yelled. "Just stop!"

Sam and John both stopped at the sound of Dean's raised voice.

"Dean…."

"No, Sam. This arguing isn't getting us anywhere. I can't take it anymore, okay?"

Sam nodded at his brother. "Okay, then...now what? What's our plan?"

Dean looked over at his dad, wondering how he was going to tell the man that they didn't need his help. Just before he spoke, though, his vision darkened again and a wave of dizziness knocked him to his knees.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he quickly took the two steps to get to his brother. John was up on his feet, as well, but just watched as Sam helped Dean back over to one of the beds.

"What happened?" John asked. "Dean?"

"I'm okay, Dad. Just got a little dizzy."

"Why? What's wrong with you?" When Dean didn't answer, John looked up at Sam. "Sam? What's wrong with your brother?"

"It's a long story, Dad."

"Damn it! Someone needs to tell me what's going on. Right now!"

Sam looked over at Dean, who was laying against the headboard of the bed, his eyes closed and his face tightened in pain. "It's the case we're working on," he finally answered. "The thing we're hunting attacked us, Dad. Dean… uh, Dean nearly died hunting this thing."

John looked over at Dean with concern. "You're sure he's okay, now? Does he need to go to a hospital?"

"No!" Dean answered quietly. "No hospital. I think I just over did it today. I just need to sleep."

Both John and Sam looked like they were about to argue that point, but neither one of them said anything. Instead, John sat back down on the small sofa. "Start from the beginning, Sam. I need to know everything."

* * *

Author's note: Well, there you have it. John is officially in the mix now. I'm not sure how I feel about that, actually, lol. He definitely brings out a completely different dynamic between Sam and Dean, and I'm not sure that's a good thing. I guess we'll have to wait and see how dear old John deals with everything. And how Sam and Dean deal with having dear old Dad around. We should be in for some interesting times.

Thanks for reading. I sure would love to hear what you all think of this chapter and the story as a whole. Take care.


	13. Even on the Darkest Night

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 13

Even on the Darkest Night

* * *

It took almost an hour for Sam to fill John in on everything that had happened and on what their research was leading them to. Dean occasionally joined in the conversation, but for the most part he was content to just let Sam do the deed. By the time Sam was done, they were all exhausted, but despite the late hour, John wouldn't let it go.

"Dad, maybe we should let it go for now and get some sleep," Sam finally said. He had noticed how Dean was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes open with each passing minute.

"We can sleep when the job is done, Sam," John answered in a low voice.

"It's almost three in the morning," Sam said in an even lower voice, throwing a pointed glance in his brother's direction.

"Go over it one more time," John said. "What do you remember about when the spirit took you? And why is she so fixated on you? And what else do we know about her? Was her body ever recovered?"

"Dad, come on," Sam tried again. "Dean needs to sleep. He's barely holding himself upright."

"I'm fine," Dean said in a slurred voice. "I'm fine, Sammy."

"Well, I'm not. I'm tired and I need to sleep." Sam stood up and walked toward the bathroom, pausing in the doorway to look over at his brother before returning his gaze to his father. "Um, Dad…. Did you rent a room here, too? Where are you sleeping?"

"I thought I'd just rack with you two," John grumbled, eyeing the extra bed that Sam had been sleeping in.

Dean's eyes flew open at his words. "Hey, I'm not sharing a bed with Sasquatch," he said loudly. "He hogs the bed with his overgrown body."

"Dean, there's no sense in wasting money on another bed when we can buck up for the night and share.

"Fine, then you sleep with Sam," Dean growled.

"Hey, I'm not sleeping with Dad," Sam said quickly. "I'll get my own room."

John sighed loudly before glaring at both of his boys. "Never mind. I'll get my own room. And we'll meet up outside at six o'clock."

"Dad, that's only three hours away. Come on…."

"Fine. Eight o'clock."

Without another word, John turned and left the room.

"Dude, that was close," Dean laughed. "We almost had to spend the night listening to Dad snore."

"Yeah, he's definitely worse than you," Sam laughed.

"I don't snore!" Dean looked completely offended by his brother's words.

"Keep telling yourself that, dude."

Sam finished up in the bathroom quickly. By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, Dean had rolled over in the bed and was snuggled under the covers. Sam knew his brother would never admit how bad he felt, but the mere idea that he would go to sleep without performing his normal bedtime routine was telling. Dean was a fanatic about his oral care.

Thinking his brother had already fallen asleep, Sam pulled back the covers on his bed and crawled in. He had just snuggled himself down under the blankets when Dean's voice broke the quiet.

"Dad's here," he said obviously.

When Sam didn't answer, he continued. "Sammy, are you up for this? I mean, you guys haven't really resolved any of your, uh… issues. I know you're still pissed at him."

"It's okay. I'll behave."

Dean let out a loud guffaw. "I'm sure you'll try, Sammy, but this is Dad we're talking about. The two of you working together usually doesn't end well."

"That's because he's impossible to work with! You know how he gets, Dean. By noon tomorrow he will have completely taken over and you and I will both know exactly what we did to screw this all up."

"Just keep your head down and your mouth shut, Sammy," Dean said with a tired sigh. "Let's just finish this job and get on with it, okay?"

"Fine," Sam answered as he rolled away from his brother. Just as he was about to doze off, Dean's voice broke the quiet again.

"Goodnight, Sam."

* * *

By seven o'clock, Dean was awake and raring to go. He wouldn't admit it, but he still felt a little worn out and dizzy. The problem was, though, that once he was awake, he was up. No amount of lounging in the bed, trying to fall back to sleep, had ever worked for Dean Winchester.

Sam woke up with a groan after the second thrown sock smacked him in the face.

"Rise and shine, Sammy. It's time to face the world. And Dad."

Sam groaned as he rolled over onto his back. "What time is it?"

"A little after seven. And if I know Dad, he's probably already waiting out by the car for us."

"He said eight o'clock, Dean. Let me sleep some more."

"Come on, Sam. I know you need your beauty sleep, but time's a-wastin'. We need to finish this."

Sam rolled over and sat up. He stared at his brother, trying to figure out if the shakiness he could hear in the man's voice was just left over sleepiness or if it was due to his health. "How are you feeling?" he asked after noticing that Dean's face was paler than normal.

"I'm fine, dude. But, I'm starving, so let's get this show on the road."

Sam got up and grabbed a clean set of clothes out of his bag. Ten minutes later, he stepped out of the bathroom, toweling off his wet hair. He was surprised to see John sitting at the small table, drinking a cup of coffee. Dean was rifling through a brown bag with a look of disappointment on his face.

"Where are the pancakes?" he asked grumpily.

"No pancakes, Dean. I just grabbed some breakfast burritos."

The look on Dean's face nearly made Sam laugh.

"But, I wanted pancakes," Dean pouted, looking like a five year old.

"Just eat your damn burrito," John blurted out, angrily.

"Someone didn't get enough sleep," Dean loudly whispered to Sam, causing the youngest Winchester to laugh out loud.

John looked like he was going to say something, but instead he aimed a small grin at Dean. "I forgot your complete obsession with pancakes for breakfast, Dean. Maybe we can grab some tomorrow."

Dean shot a self-satisfied smile over at his brother, who had just bitten into his own burrito. Sam was surprised that their father had given in so easily to his brother, especially over something as silly as pancakes. "You're an idiot," he said to Dean who just continued to smile at him like a kid who was pleased with getting his way.

"You're just jealous that I'm getting pancakes tomorrow. I'm sure if you want, Dad could probably find you an egg-white spinach vegan omelet somewhere."

"You do know that vegans don't eat eggs, right?" Sam laughed. "Idiot."

Dean stepped over and put his brother in a choke hold. Sam reached up with his right hand and placed it against Dean's jaw, pushing his head back uncomfortably. Dean responded by pulling Sam's hair, which led to Sam elbowing Dean in the stomach. Dean was just about to yank Sam's arm up behind his back when John's voice interrupted.

"Boys!"

That one word had Dean letting go of Sam and Sam letting go of Dean. Both boys stared at their father, their faces red and their breathing hard from the exertion of their little tussle. Dean looked at his dad with faux chagrin as he reached over and smoothed out Sam's hair. Next, he straightened Sam's shirt, making sure to button one of the buttons that had come undone in their wrestling match.

"Sorry, Dad," he said, giving his dad one of his most charming grins.

John rolled his eyes at his son's antics. "Eat your breakfast," he commanded.

"Yes, sir," Dean replied snappily, coming to a position of attention and giving his father a quick salute. This time, both John and Sam rolled their eyes at him.

* * *

Once breakfast was over, the three Winchester's piled into their respective cars and headed towards the lake. Dean was relieved that John decided to take his truck because he knew the man would insist on driving the Impala otherwise. Dean hated it when anyone else drove his car. Sam was relieved that John had decided to take his own vehicle for his own reasons.

Once they arrived at the lake, they parked as close as they could to the boat dock where everything had occurred so far. They were relieved to see that the lake appeared empty at the moment, probably because it was the middle of the week and so early in the morning. They didn't really have a plan, but whatever they decided to do would be easier without a bunch of civilians around.

Dean grabbed the duffle bag of weapons out of the trunk of the Impala, making sure that it was packed with the things they would need. He also made sure to grab his EMF meter. Sam grabbed another duffle bag as back up. Neither one of them was surprised to see John with his own bag, too.

"So this is where it happened?" John asked as he looked over the lake. The morning was crisp and clear, but there was a low fog that settled over the surface of the lake.

"There have been reports of sightings and happenings all around the lake over the years, but both of our encounters happened right here," Sam explained. "There are mixed reports on what part of the lake the woman actually went missing in, though. In fact, there is supposed to be a statue of some sort that was erected in her memory somewhere on the lake."

"What did the EMF show at the statue?" John asked.

Dean and Sam shared a look. "We haven't checked it yet," Sam answered.

John looked at Dean in surprise. "That should have been the first place you checked, Dean."

Dean glared at his brother before looking back at John. "I would have if I had known about it!"

"Sorry," Sam said. "I just found out about it yesterday when I was doing some research while Dean was at physical therapy. When he came back to the room, they said he could go home, so I got all caught up in that. I just now remembered." He couldn't help but feel embarrassed at forgetting something that could prove to be important.

"That was a rookie mistake, Sammy," John said angrily. "Jobs can go south really quick without good intel."

"Come on, Dad," Dean said in an attempt to defend his brother. "Things have been a little crazy since he found that out. And it wouldn't have changed our plans anyway. We can check it out right now. No harm done."

John didn't look inclined to agree, but he didn't push the subject. "Well, it shouldn't be too hard to find the statue. Sam, why don't you head out and drive around the lake until you find it. Dean and I will stay here."

"NO!" Dean yelled immediately.

"Dean, Sam can handle himself. Go on, Sam."

"I said no," Dean said firmly as he grabbed his brother by the arm. "We're sticking together."

"That'll take too long. And I'm in charge here, so back down, Dean," John said even more firmly.

"Sam's not going off by himself, Dad. It's not going to happen."

"I gave you both an order."

"I don't give a damn about your orders," Dean yelled. "Sammy, you're not going anywhere."

After a long pause, where John and Dean stared each other down, John gave in. "Fine. I'll go check it out. You boys stay here and hold each other's hands."

Without another word, the man turned and walked back to his truck, leaving Sam to look at his brother in awe.

"Dude…"

"Shut up, Sammy. Let's check this place out."

Sam followed Dean out onto the dock, looking for anything out of place. Dean had the EMF meter out and it was eliciting a small whine as he swept it around the boat dock.

"Well, I'd say she's been here recently, but not at the moment," Dean said, the relief evident in his voice. He looked around the lake, noticing for the first time how beautiful it was. Sam had followed him to the edge of the dock. Both hunters noticed at the same time when the temperature suddenly dropped and Dean grabbed his shotgun out of the bag he was carrying, getting ready just in case. Sam was already bringing his up to his shoulder, anticipating the need to shoot and to shoot fast.

"See anything?" Dean asked.

Sam turned around slowly. "I don't see anything. You?"

"Nope."

They continued to look all around and eventually Dean noticed something. "Over there," he pointed. "Do you see that? Looks like a shimmer right on the shoreline."

Sam finally noticed what Dean was pointing at. "Do you think that's her?"

"I don't know. What else could it be?"

As they looked on at the faint shimmer, they both noticed as it started to coalesce into a more substantial form. Seconds later, the ghostly form of the vengeful woman appeared and Sam and Dean watched as she started moving towards them.

"Stay behind me, Sammy," Dean ordered. "And whatever you do, don't leave me."

"Dean…."

The ghost had been moving slowly, but suddenly her movements became faster. Dean squared his shoulders, bringing the shotgun up and ready. He let out a deep breath, watching as it seemed to freeze in the air in front of him. A chill shot through him, causing his back to seize up for a moment. Just at that moment, he felt his brother's hand on his back, the warmth soaking into him, tethering him to his brother with an invisible thread.

"Sam…"

The ghost had stopped just in front of Dean and he was surprised that she hadn't attacked them yet. Instead, she stared at Dean, the coldness of her gaze boring into him and causing another chill to shoot through him. Every fiber of his being wanted to blast her with rock salt, but he knew that they needed to try to get some answers first.

The ghost continued to stare at Dean, but eventually her gazed turned onto Sam. Dean didn't miss the way the coldness in her gaze changed to a sad and yearning need. She moved away from Dean, obviously trying to make her way to Sam, but Dean turned with her, keeping his body front of his brother.

They continued on like that for several seconds…. the ghost trying to get to Sam, Dean trying to stay in between the two. He could tell the ghost was getting upset and wasn't surprised when he suddenly felt the coldness of her hand reaching for his throat. The deep breaths he had been taking to calm himself were suddenly cut off as she squeezed his throat harshly.

"Dean!" Sam cried as he tried to come to his brother's aid. Dean reached back with one hand and pushed against Sam, preventing him from facing the ghost.

"Stay back," Dean said in a strangled voice. And then, "What do you want with my brother?"

" _He's mine. He belongs to me."_

"You keep saying that, but it's not true. He's my brother, so back off, lady."

Sam couldn't believe that Dean was arguing with a ghost about who he belonged to.

" _He's mine…."_

Dean could feel a dizziness moving into his head and his vision was starting to blur around the edges. He knew he needed to do something before he either passed out or his brother did something stupid. Looking back at the ghost, he said the only thing he could think of. "This is Sam. He's not your son, but we think we found your son. We know where he is."

The ghost suddenly let go of his neck and he quickly found himself gasping for air. His lungs burned with the effort of taking in a breath and with the coldness of the air around him, but he was grateful to be able to breathe again. The ghost was now looking at him strangely, forgetting about her efforts to get to Sam. Dean was trying to gather his thoughts, trying to figure out what to do next, when a sudden shout disturbed the quiet of the moment.

"Down, Dean!"

Without thinking, Dean fell to the ground just as a gunshot rang loudly. He could literally feel the bullet as it whizzed past the top of his head, and seconds later he looked up in confusion. The ghost had disappeared from in front of him, leaving him and Sam alone on the dock.

"Dean!" Sam yelled. "Dean, are you okay?"

Dean climbed slowly back to his feet, his hand feeling the top of his head where he had felt the bullet pass over. "I'm good, Sammy," he said shakily. Sam could tell his brother was still trying to recover from the recent choking he had endured. Not to mention, the fact that he had just barely missed being shot in the head.

"What the hell, Dad?" Sam roared as he turned to face the man who had fired the gun. "You could have killed Dean!"

* * *

Author's note: Here you go, guys. A little bit of the Winchester dysfunction for you to peruse at your leisure. I'd love to know what you all think of John. And what you think of Sam and Dean. I love their relationship so much and I really want to portray it well, so I hope I'm doing just that.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Take care.


	14. I Can Be Your Sword and Shield

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 14

I Can Be Your Sword and Shield

* * *

Dean watched as John strode towards them, the shotgun still up and ready to fire again, if needed. He could feel the anger rolling off of his brother in waves, so he did what he could to calm him down.

"It's okay, Sammy," he said as he placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

"It's not okay. What the hell was he thinking?!" Sam paced back and forth on the dock angrily.

Once John made it to the end of the dock where they were, he lowered his gun. "Are you okay, Dean?"

"Of course, he's not okay," Sam yelled. "You just almost took his head off, Dad!"

"I had a clean shot, Sammy. I wouldn't have taken it otherwise." Turning back to Dean, he asked again if he was okay.

"I'm fine, Dad. I just probably won't need a haircut any time soon," Dean laughed somewhat shakily.

"Nothing about this is funny, Dean," Sam growled angrily.

"Come on, Sam… that was at least a little funny."

Sam rolled his eyes before looking at John again. "Why did you shoot? We were making progress, Dad. Now we're probably back to square one with her."

"She had Dean by the throat, Sam. Maybe you couldn't see that since you were hiding behind your brother instead of helping him."

Sam started to argue, but Dean cut him off. "Shut up! Both of you!"

John was shocked to hear Dean talk to him that way. "Mind your attitude, son," he said in a dangerous voice. "You, too, Sammy."

"Dad, please stop! We're not going to get anywhere on this case if we just keep having the same issues over and over again. And in case you didn't notice, the spirit let go of me. She was listening to what I was saying right before you blasted her away."

"And just what were you saying to her?" John asked.

"I told her that we know where her son is."

"But you boys already tried that route with her great-great-whatever. It didn't work, remember?"

"Well, maybe we should try again," Sam suggested. "Maybe we can get him to change his mind."

"What do you know about this guy anyway?" John asked.

"Not a lot," Dean admitted. "I'm thinking we need to check him out a little more, see if we can find something that might help us."

"Okay, then…. Let's head back to the motel and start digging."

Dean and Sam followed John back to their vehicles, each looking behind occasionally to make sure the spirit wasn't going to blindside them in any way. Once they were back to the Impala, Dean stopped.

"Hey, dad? Maybe you could stop and pick up some burgers."

"It's ten o'clock in the morning," John growled.

"So? Burgers are good any time of the day and I'm starving!"

"How can you be starving, Dean? We just ate breakfast two hours ago."

"I'm a growing boy, Dad," Dean answered with a grin.

"Fine. I'll grab some burgers."

"And beer," Dean added. "And Sam probably wants a salad or something."

"Anything else?" John asked, exasperation heavy in his voice.

"Yeah. How about some pie, too? Coconut cream or pecan."

"Your wish is my command, princess," John laughed as he climbed up in his truck and drove off.

Dean rolled his eyes at his dad's words. "I'm not a princess. I just want some pie," he said petulantly.

* * *

Once they were back in the motel room, Sam fired up his computer and looked for any information he could find on the spirit's probable great-great-grandson, plus or minus a few greats. The baby that had been abandoned so many years ago had been adopted by an elderly couple by the name of Tom and Evelyn Masters. They had taken the baby boy in a mere two weeks after he had been found, naming him Timothy after Evelyn's father. Timothy had been an only child of the Masters and when they died within six months of each other twenty years later, he had inherited a rather large estate.

No one ever found out where he came from. No missing child reports had ever been filed on his behalf, no frantic pleas from distressed mothers or fathers. Sam could easily trace the man they had talked to the day before to Timothy, but trying to trace Timothy back to the spirit from the lake was impossible.

What he found out about Adam Masters wasn't much, either. The man they had spoken to yesterday was the last living Masters of their line. He had no aunts and uncles, no cousins, and he had been an only child himself. He had never been married and had no children of his own. He worked as a tax auditor, lived in a house that was too big for him, and had no pets other than two goldfish named Sam and Frodo. Sam found some of this information on an old eHarmony account that looked like it had just recently been updated, but hadn't seen much activity.

Dean was working the other end of the problem on his own computer. None of the reports he read on the ghost of Stow Lake had much information as to who the ghost was and the reports were so varied that some even mentioned the ghost being a man. With no name to search for and various descriptions given over the years of what the apparition looked like, Dean had very little to go on.

John returned from his grocery/food run to find both of his boys buried in their computers. They paused long enough to scarf down their food and to guzzle a beer before diving back into the research. John didn't have a computer to use, so he spent his time outside making phone calls to other hunters to see if anyone had ever heard about this particular spirit.

It was Dean who finally stumbled onto something nearly four hours later. He had just been about to give up when he checked one last link. He had been searching the obituaries and the missing persons reports from all over the state of California without luck, but when he expanded his search to include neighboring states, he finally found something that could be related.

A young woman from the state of Arizona reported her younger sister missing in 1919. The police report stated that the young woman, whose name was Annabelle Fitzgerald, had recently lost her husband Johnathan to the 1918 Flu pandemic. Six months later and seven months pregnant, she had taken off on her own. Her sister never heard from her again.

This in and of itself wasn't enough to get Dean's attention, but the police report had a picture of the young husband and wife taken just a few months before his death. Dean stared at the picture for several long seconds before letting out a slow breath.

"I think I found something, Sammy," he said in a weirdly distressed voice. Sam looked up from his own computer to see Dean's pale, drawn face staring at his computer.

"What is it?"

"Come here. You have to see it to believe it," Dean answered strangely.

Sam stood up and made his way over to Dean, who turned his computer slightly towards his brother so he could see.

"What the hell?" Sam said breathlessly.

"Well, I think we know now why she's so fixated on you," Dean answered. He stared at the blurry black and white picture on the screen, trying to make sense of the fact that it looked just like his brother's face staring back at him. In fact, the man's whole being looked like Sam.

"That's just freaky, dude," Dean said as he stared up at his brother before looking back at the computer screen.

"How do you think I feel," Sam asked. "What's the story here?"

Dean spent the next several minutes explaining it all to his brother. They both knew that if it wasn't for the fact that Sam's doppelgänger had been discovered, no one would have ever made the connection between the missing person report and the Stow Lake ghost.

"So, what…. She's depressed after her husband dies, so she traipses off across California on her own? Pregnant? Why would she do that?! Especially back then. Women just didn't do stuff like that."

"Who knows," Dean answered. "Maybe she just lost it after he died. Maybe she couldn't stand to be around things that reminded her of him."

"So, why didn't anyone report her missing once she drowned? They never found the body after witnesses saw her walk into the lake, but no one ever came forward to look for her."

"Maybe she just didn't have any ties to the area," Dean offered. Maybe she hadn't been here for too long and hadn't made any connections yet. No one would know she was missing."

"She had to be staying somewhere, though. Don't you think someone would have reported her for not paying rent or something?"

"I don't know, Sam. It was a different time back then. And who knows where she was staying. She could have been renting a room by the day or by the week. She could have been staying in a shelter for unwed mothers. Or a church? There are so many possibilities, but it doesn't really matter, right? At least we know who she is now."

"But how are we going to end this, Dean? They never found her body, so there's nothing to salt and burn."

"Well, maybe we go back out to the lake and try to talk to her again."

Neither one of them particularly liked that idea, but they really didn't have many options.

* * *

John returned to the room thirty minutes later to find Sam and Dean sitting on their beds, flipping through the channels on the television and drinking a beer. He didn't look too impressed that they weren't still poring over their computers.

"Giving up already?" he asked as he grabbed the remote out of Dean's hand and turned off the television.

"Hey! We were watching that! They were just about to announce the winner of this week's Star Search!" Dean jumped out of bed and tried to grab the remote back, but John caught him with a hand to the chest and gently pushed him backwards.

"We're on a hunt, in case you've forgotten what we're doing here in this sleazy motel. You can watch Star Search when we're done." John glared at both of his sons, causing both of them to look uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed.

"Dad, we were just taking a break," Dean said. "Sammy and I made a major breakthrough on the case and we were waiting for you to come back so we could fill you in."

"What sort of breakthrough?" John asked as he eyed his sons curiously, giving them the distinct impression that they better have something good or else.

"Explain it to him, Sam," Dean said. "I don't want to go through it all again."

Sam spent the next twenty minutes filling John in on what he and Dean had found, occasionally stopping when Dean felt the need to interject something. John had been just as flabbergasted by the resemblance between Sam and Johnathan Fitzgerald when he saw the picture.

By the time they were done, John had a look on his face that they rarely saw. "Good job. Both of you. That was some fine research you boys did."

Sam was surprised by his father's words and looking over at his brother, he could tell Dean was, too. John Winchester was never the type of man to give praise away easily, even when it was truly deserved. So, hearing those words come out of his mouth was a true surprise. Sam hated that it meant so much to him. He had hoped that he had moved beyond needing his father's approval, but apparently that wasn't true. Looking at Dean, he could tell the same was true for him.

"So, now that we know a little more about our lovely lady, what are we going to do about her?" John asked. He was truly interested to see if his sons had come up with a workable plan, as well.

Sam and Dean shared a look, each hoping that the other one would start talking. When it seemed like neither of them was going to, John spoke up again.

"Dean? Do you have a plan? Or are you waiting for me to come up with one?"

"No, sir. I mean… yes, sir, I have a plan. And no, sir, you don't need to come up with one."

"Okay, then… let's hear it."

"We need to go back to the lake and talk to her again. Maybe we can get her to understand that Sam isn't her baby, all grown up. Maybe once she realizes that, she'll back off. At least long enough for us to figure out our next step. I think by this time, finding her body will be impossible, though, so I really have no idea where to go from here."

Sam sat up a little straighter on his bed. "Maybe we need to pay Adam Masters another visit. Maybe if we explained the situation to him, he'll understand."

"Explain what?" John asked. "That we want him to come with us to confront a vengeful spirit who may or may not want to take him into the lake with her?"

"I don't know, Dad," Sam answered irritably. "Do you have a better idea?"

John stared at his youngest son for a few seconds. "For now, let's go with Dean's plan. Let's go back to the lake and see if we can find her again."

"Maybe this time, you don't shoot her, Dad," Dean said with a cocky grin. "Maybe this time, you show her some of those smooth John Winchester moves."

* * *

Author's note: A little bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoy it. And I hope it all makes sense, lol. Trying to come up with a backstory for a ghost isn't as easy as it looks. Also, I know that some of you were thinking that John was being a little too much of an ass, so I hope this chapter softened him up just a little. What do you all think?

Thanks so much for reading. Of course, I'd love it if you'd leave a review. Take care, all.


	15. And You Will Be Mine

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 15

Your Camouflage

* * *

Unfortunately, John insisted on taking one vehicle for their return trip to the lake, which meant that he insisted on driving the Impala. Sam laughed at the pathetic look on his brother's face when he handed over the keys to his car. Dean very rarely let anyone drive his baby and it ruffled him that John felt such a sense of entitlement to actually assume that he should automatically be the one to drive the car. _Baby was_ _ **his**_ _car._

The ride out to the lake was made in an awkward silence and not for the first time, Sam was glad he was sitting in the back seat. The many miles of road the Winchesters had driven over the years were usually made in much the same way- John driving, Dean in the passenger seat, and Sam stretched out in the back, usually lost in his own world. He would usually have his nose buried in a book, trying to keep it out of whatever business was going on in the front seat.

John and Dean usually made good travel partners, but Sam knew that they could also butt heads occasionally. And when that happened, Sam didn't want to be anywhere near them. John Winchester was an intimidating man, but Dean could definitely hold his own against his father. In fact, if Sam had to place a bet on who would come out on top in a duel to the finish, his money would be on his brother.

Dean was not only scrappy in a fight, he was deadly. Especially now that his size was comparable to his father. John wasn't sure when Dean's fighting ability surpassed his own, but it had happened somewhere around the time Sam had left for Stanford. Sam thought that it probably came about as a defense mechanism, as Dean's way of dealing with the way his life had changed. However it came about, Dean had come out on top in a side by side comparison between him and his father.

Not to mention that Dean also had better instincts. Up until recently, Sam had always thought that John Winchester was the greatest hunter that ever lived, but that title had been soundly transferred to Dean. At least, in his opinion. Dean would never admit to having the ability to usurp his father's throne.

By the time they arrived at the lake, John was annoyed with Dean's constant fidgeting and restlessness. After spending so much time in the hospital and then the last day researching in a dark motel room, Dean was ready for some action. Before the car even came to a complete stop, Dean's door was opening and he was getting out.

"Damn it, Dean! Wait for the car to stop. You're gonna kill yourself, kid!" John yelled.

Sam just laughed as Dean rolled out of the car as gracefully as ever.

"It was practically stopped, Dad," Dean laughed. "Just because you're too old to pull such an epic move doesn't mean I am. I'm in the prime of my life."

"Prime of your life, my ass," John growled, trying to hide his grin. Dean was incorrigible, but that was part of what made him Dean. "If you don't start acting right, the prime of your life will be shorter than most people's."

"Whatever you say, old man," Dean laughed. "Whatever you say…"

Sam climbed out of the car and walked over to where his brother was standing. "Hey, Dad, you never told us if you found the statue yesterday."

By this time, John was out of the car as well, making his way over to his boys. "I did. It's actually on the south side of the lake, believe it or not. This ghost has a wide range."

"Did you get much on the EMF?" Dean asked.

"It lit up like a Christmas tree."

"Well, she moves fast, too, I guess," Dean said. "While you were there, she was keeping us company on the north side of the lake."

"I could have just been picking up residual EMF," John said. "Although, if that's true, she's a pretty strong force."

"We could have told you that," Dean answered. "She's definitely a force to be reckoned with."

"Well, let's see if we can reckon with her." John took off toward the boat dock, not waiting for Sam and Dean to follow.

"Dad, wait!" Sam called after him. Once he caught up with him, he grabbed his arm to slow him down. "Dad, maybe you should let Dean lead. He's, uh….he's established a rapport with her."

"He's established a rapport with a ghost? Seriously?"

"Maybe not," Dean answered with a grin. "But, at least I didn't take a potshot at her. I have a feeling she might be a little angry with you."

"An angry ghost? Really? I'm pretty sure I can handle an angry ghost, Dean."

"That's the problem, though," Sam interrupted. "We need to talk to her, Dad. Not scare her off. We need answers."

"I know we do, Sam." After glaring at both of his sons, John finally gave in. "Fine! Lead the way, Dean."

Dean stepped around his dad and headed toward the dock. It was almost eight o'clock at night and the lake was empty, much to their relief. There was a light drizzle of rain that served no other purpose than to cause the Winchester's to feel slightly chilled. Dean wished that he hadn't worn his leather jacket, but it was too late to shed it now.

Dean and Sam walked out to the end of the dock, while John walked down to the small beach. There wasn't even the slightest hint of a breeze, so other than the patterns of the small ripples caused by the rain hitting the surface of the lake, it was perfectly still.

"Do you think she'll show up?" Sam asked his brother quietly.

"I don't know, but if I was guessing, I'd say yes. I think she's attuned to you somehow, Sammy. And I'm betting she'll sense your presence."

"That's comforting."

"Yeah, well, we came here to talk to her right? Who cares what draws her here."

Sam knew his brother wasn't being truthful. Dean cared very much that it was Sam that the ghost was drawn to. He could tell by the way his brother kept looking his way, making sure that Sam didn't get more than a few steps away from him, and by the way he always kept his stance open, in case he had to move fast. Dean was definitely in big brother, over-protective mode.

And Sam appreciated it, honestly. If ever there was a time for Dean to be over-protective, this was it. This particular ghost unnerved him, especially after seeing the picture of her husband and knowing there was some sort of connection there.

"Do you see anything?" he asked Dean, who was doing a slow 360 degree turn to check things out.

"No. You?"

"Nothing."

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when the quiet of the night was suddenly disrupted by Dean's deep voice.

"Annabelle!"

"Dean, what are you doing?"

Sam looked down the beach, searching for both the ghost and their father. He could just make out the shape of their dad at the end of the strip of beach and wasn't surprised to see him turning and starting to make his way to them. "Dad's coming," he told his brother.

Dean looked around him before calling out for Annabelle again. "Damn it! Where is she?!" he yelled. He was turning back toward Sam when he suddenly felt the temperature plummet. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, I feel it," Sam said.

"Stay behind me, Sam," Dean commanded.

"Dean…."

"I mean it, Sammy. Stay behind me."

Sam wanted to argue that he could take care of himself, but he didn't want to distract Dean at the moment. His brother was focused on his surroundings, looking in every direction for the ghost. Sam started looking around, too, his spine tingling in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Dean placed a hand on Sammy's arm, keeping his brother within reach. As he turned to look behind him, he suddenly found himself face to face with the ghost of Annabelle Fitzgerald. "Whoa!" he yelled as he took a step backwards.

" _He's mine…"_

"Look, lady….I'm really tired of hearing that. Don't you have anything else to say?"

" _He belongs to me…"_

"Really? You're like a broken record."

"Dean, maybe you shouldn't piss her off," Sam said quietly.

"Why not? She's pissing me off with her "he's mine" and "he belongs to me" every five seconds."

"Dean…"

"Fine," Dean barked. "Fine. Listen, Annabelle…. We're trying to help you here."

" _I don't need your help. I just need what belongs to me."_

"That's what we're trying to help you with," Dean answered in annoyance. "We know where your son is."

" _Where is he?"_ she suddenly cried loudly, causing both Dean and Sam to stumble back a few more steps. _"Give him to me."_

"It's not that easy, Annabelle. But, we're working on it."

Dean barely got his response out before he was suddenly picked up and thrown into the wooden railing of the dock, instantly feeling several of his ribs crack on contact. With the breath knocked completely out of him and the pain tearing through his chest, his eyes quickly filled with tears, making it hard for him to see what was happening.

"Sammy!" he tried yelling, but barely a sound made it past his vocal cords. Trying to lever himself up into a sitting position, he looked frantically around for his brother. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the shape of Sam just a few yards away from him. He could also just make out the shape of the shotgun in his brother's hands just seconds before he heard the crack of the shot that drove the ghost away.

"Dean!" Sam cried as he made it over to his brother as fast as he could. "Dean, are you alright?"

By this time, Dean was gasping desperately for air, his hands grappling at his chest as if that would help.

"Dean, look at me," Sam ordered as he took his brother's face in both of his hands and moved it towards his own. Fear shot through him as he saw the look of desperation on Dean's face. That fear intensified when he noticed how pale Dean was. "Dean, it's okay. I'm right here, bro. Hang in there."

"I…c-can't b-b-breathe, Sammy," Dean gasped.

Sam placed one of his hands gently on Dean's chest. "Dad!" he yelled as loudly as he could, hoping that John was close enough to hear him. "Dad, I need help!"

Seconds later, John appeared next to his son. "Dean…Son…it's okay. Just breathe!"

"He can't, Dad. I think one of his ribs must have punctured a lung. We have to get him to a hospital."

"I already called 911, Sammy. They're on their way."

Sam had never been so relieved to hear something come out of his dad's mouth. "Did you hear that, Dean? Help's coming, okay? Just hang in there a little longer."

Dean grabbed Sam's hand, clutching it to his chest as his back arched with each attempt to take a breath in. "S-Sammy…" he gasped.

"Don't talk, son," John instructed. "Just focus on breathing."

Dean's eyes never left his brother's as he tried to take in breath after breath. His vision was darkening and his head was spinning from the lack of oxygen, but his green-eyed gaze remained steady on his brother's. Just as he thought he might actually lose consciousness, Sam started yelling loudly. "They're here, Dean. The ambulance is here!"

The paramedics arrived less than a minute later, shoving John and Sam gently out of the way so they could get to their patient. The minute Dean lost contact with his brother, his eyes rolled back and he lost his battle to stay conscious.

* * *

Dr. Porter readied herself and her staff for the arrival of an incoming ambulance. She listened as dispatch patched her through to one of the paramedics bringing in a patient from Stow Lake. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Incoming male, approximately twenty-four years old, respiratory distress from probable rib fractures and hemo/pneumothorax. BP 90/50, heart rate 130, respiratory rate 30, oxygen sats 87% on 10 liters oxygen. Pt is dyspneic, skin is diaphoretic, GCS 11."

 _Could it be possible that this was Dean Winchester?_ For as long as she had worked in the ER, she had never received a patient from Stow Lake. Now, in the space of several weeks, she had received two… Sam and Dean Winchester. Remembering what happened to Dean the last time, she hoped that she was wrong about it being him. His body was more than likely still recovering from his near-drowning and something like this would be even more dangerous for the young man.

When the ambulance arrived, she met it outside the ambulance bay doors, waiting impatiently for the ambulance door to open and reveal her patient. Her heart sank when she noticed the young man sitting towards the back of the ambulance. _Sam…_

Looking down at the patient, she took in the pale face, the bluish colored lips and translucent eyelids, the short brown hair that was damp with sweat. "Let's get him into trauma one," she ordered quickly, following the gurney into the ER. Once they wheeled Dean into the trauma bay, Dr. Porter started barking out orders. "I need a STAT chest x-ray and someone please draw some blood… CBC, Chem 8, PT/PTT, and let's type and cross him. Jeremy? Cut his shirt off and let's get some vital signs."

Everyone moved around Dean in a controlled chaos, each person doing their assigned task efficiently and timely. Once the chest x-ray was done, Dr. Porter confirmed that there were indeed several cracked ribs, as well as a hemothorax. "We're going to need to get a chest tube in," she said immediately. And let's intubate."

As she prepared to do both tasks, she looked down at her patient again. "Damn it, Dean. What have you been up to?"

* * *

Sam was relieved that they allowed him to ride in the back of the ambulance. John didn't even argue when the paramedics said they could only take one person and Sam immediately jumped in the back. Although, John really wanted to be with Dean and to know what was going on, he knew that Sam wouldn't take no for an answer. So instead, he jumped in the Impala and followed closely behind the ambulance, hoping that he wouldn't get pulled over for speeding.

Once he arrived at the hospital, he quickly parked the Impala and made his way to the emergency room. There were several clusters of people sitting in the waiting room, but he had no trouble at all finding Sam, who was currently pacing maniacally back and forth. "Sammy? Have you heard anything?"

"No," Sam answered frantically. "Dad, he wasn't breathing well when we got here."

"He'll be okay, Sam. You need to try to calm down."

"Calm down?" Sam nearly yelled. "Dad, he was barely breathing!"

John noticed that they had attracted unwanted attention from the lone security guard sitting in a nearby office. Quietly clearing his throat, he grabbed Sam's arm and led him over to a chair. "He's in good hands, Sam. You said it yourself, remember? You told me that they took great care of him the last time he was here. And your brother's strong. One of the strongest men I know."

Sam calmed down a little at his father's words, but it didn't last long. "Why isn't anyone telling us what's going on?" he asked loudly. "I need to know what's happening."

John spent the next hour trying to keep Sam as calm as he could. There were a few moments where he thought his own panic might take over, but he was able to control it. Controlling Sam was proving to be a lot more difficult.

Just as he was about to force his youngest son outside to cool off, the ER door opened and Dr. Porter walked out. Her eyes immediately landed on Sam and she stepped over to him.

"He's alive," she said, knowing that was the first question Sam would want answered. "But he's critical, Sam. He has several broken ribs and a hemothorax, meaning he has blood in his pleural cavity. I placed a tube in his chest to drain the blood and we'll be closely monitoring him for blood loss and infection." She paused after that, causing Sam to wonder what more she had to say. Seeing the look of increased worry on Sam's face, she continued. "We had to intubate him, Sam. I know you didn't want to hear that, but it was necessary."

Sam's face paled even more. John put a hand on Sam's shoulder and cleared his throat to get the doctor's attention. "When can you get the tubes out?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Porter said, as if noticing the older man for the first time. "Who are you?"

"John Winchester. I'm Dean's father."

"Oh, Mr. Winchester…. I'm Dr. Porter. I treated your son the last time he came through the ER."

John ignored the niceties of introductions and polite conversations. "When can you get the tubes out, Dr. Porter?' he asked again.

"It may be a while, Mr. Winchester. We'll be moving him to ICU soon and Dr. Chase will take over his care while he's there. He'll be closely monitored there." Turning back to Sam, she tried to reassure him again. "He's in good hands, Sam. And Dean's strong. He'll fight this."

"Thank you, Dr. Porter," Sam said shakily. "When can we see him?"

"How about right now?" she asked with a small smile. "But, remember, Sam…. He'll be sedated for now while he's on the ventilator. Once he's a little more stable, we'll titrate the sedation down."

Sam and John followed the doctor back through the ER doors and into the trauma bay. Sam's chest ached when he saw his big brother lying so still on the gurney, wires and tubes snaking under the blankets. Dean and stillness just didn't go well together, in his opinion, yet it seemed more and more often they were teaming up, leaving Sam alone to worry about his brother.

"He'll be okay, Sammy," John said quietly, as he stared at his son. "I promise."

Sam didn't answer his dad. Instead, he focused everything he had on Dean.

* * *

Author's note: I know it seems like we're spending a lot of time in the hospital, but I promise it won't last too long this time. I'm just trying to show that this ghost means business, lol. And I thought it might be a little interesting to see how John reacts to seeing Dean so vulnerable. Please don't give up on the story. The end is coming.

Thanks so much for reading. And for those of you who review, thanks, as well.

One more thing…..I was just wondering if any of you are going to the Seattle Supernatural convention this month? I'll be there and thought it would be fun to connect.


	16. Echoes of the Shots Ring Out

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 16

Echoes of the Shots Ring Out

* * *

This time, Dean's hospital stay was even more prolonged. Dr. Porter and Dr. Chase both explained to Sam and John that Dean's body was still weakened from his near drowning, causing his ability to heal diminish greatly . Dean's lungs were still feeling the effect of the previous injury, and now they were injured again.

Sam, who still freshly remembered the sights and sounds of the ICU, sat next to his brother's bed, anxious eyes sweeping from monitor, to ventilator, to IV pumps, and then resting on his brother's still form for a few minutes before starting the cycle again. John stood at the room's window, staring outside, silent and still.

This went on for several hours until Sam finally heard his father moving behind him.

"Why didn't you tell me Dean was so bad off the last time?" the man asked angrily. "He had no business being out there today."

"I _did_ tell you, Dad! I told you that he was unconscious and on the ventilator for days."

"Dean made it sound like it wasn't a big deal," John replied.

"Of course it was a big deal! He nearly died. And when does Dean ever admit to the seriousness of his injuries?"

"You should have called me, Sam! If your brother nearly died, don't you think you should have called me?"

Sam didn't really know how to answer that. He looked at his father, noticing how the man's fists were clenched and his back ramrod straight.

"I know I should have called you," he finally admitted. "But, I didn't want to take the chance that you wouldn't have shown up, Dad. I was afraid of what it would do to Dean if that happened."

"What makes you think I wouldn't show up?"

"Come on, Dad. Half the time we call you, you don't answer your phone. And the other half of the time, you're too busy with whatever you're hunting to be there for us. You've made your choice over and over again, and you usually don't choose us."

"That's not true," John said quietly.

"It _is_ true."

"Sam. I know it's hard for you to understand, but I'm doing this job for you and your brother. There are too many evil things in this world and someone has to take care of them. Before they can hurt this family anymore."

"That doesn't make sense, Dad. If that were true, you wouldn't be so adamant that Dean and I hunt, too. I'd think you'd want to make sure your sons were safe and happy. How many times have we sat in hospital rooms or cheap motel rooms while Dean was laid up with some injury?! How many times has he almost died helping you on some hunt?! He deserves better."

"Dean likes to hunt, Sam. It's in his blood."

Sam couldn't deny that his brother liked to hunt, but that wasn't the point he was trying to make. "Dean likes to hunt because it's all he knows, Dad. He grew up learning to be a hunter. He didn't really have a choice, did he? It's not like you tried to introduce him to other hobbies. Or let him explore anything else. You wouldn't let him play sports or join any clubs at school. All he knew was hunting. And that hunting was his only way to spend time with you."

"Dean didn't want to join clubs at school or play sports, Sam."

"How do you know that? Did you ever ask him?"

"I didn't have to ask him. I just know."

"Yeah? Did you know that Dean tried out for the wrestling team that year we were in Ohio? And that he made the team? He found out one Friday afternoon and he was so excited. He told me when we were walking home from school that day. You were off on a hunt, but he couldn't wait to tell you."

"Why didn't he tell me, then?" John asked.

"Because you came home sometime in the middle of the night and made us leave. You woke us up at three in the morning and told us to start packing. That we were leaving in thirty minutes. Dean never said anything, but I could tell he was upset."

"I didn't know."

"There's a lot you didn't know, Dad," Sam answered sadly.

* * *

By the time Dr. Chase made rounds again, Sam was asleep in the chair by Dean's bed and John was pacing the floor impatiently.

"Mr. Winchester, maybe you should try to get some rest while you can," the doctor suggested.

"I'm not tired," he answered gruffly. "Dr. Chase, is my boy going to be okay?"

"I'm going to be honest with you, Mr. Winchester. Dean's body has been through a lot lately and his recent injuries have definitely pushed him to the edge. But, he's strong. And even though I don't really know him, I can tell he's a fighter. That's important. It may be a long road, but my money is on him."

"Thanks, Doc," John said. His eyes roamed the room before looking back over to the still figure on the bed. He couldn't quite bring himself to look directly at Dean, so his eyes usually stopped somewhere near the pile of blankets that were covering his son. He knew it was stupid, but he really didn't want to look at his son, to see how vulnerable his boy was. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to Dean, who was the center of their little family.

John knew that most people would think that Sam fit that title more than Dean, because of the way both he and Dean were always looking out for the youngest Winchester. But, truth be told, Dean was definitely the glue that held their family together. John relied on his oldest son too much and he knew it. Dean had practically raised Sam himself and John was rather ashamed of that fact, though there wasn't anything he could do about it now. And he knew how much Sam looked up to his big brother. In John's mind, Sam cared very little about what his father thought of him, but Dean's approval was everything to the boy. Every decision Sam made was weighed against how he thought Dean would react to it. And even though that was true, sometimes Sam acted selfishly, putting the needs of his brother, and family as a whole, last. Like his decision to go off to college.

There was a part of John that understood why Sam wanted to leave. Sam had always been the one to want a more normal life. He was always the one who wanted to plant somewhere permanently and to be a part of something bigger and better than what they were used to. He craved normalcy and routine. And John sometimes wished that he could have given those things to his boys. But, he couldn't. Their search for the thing that killed Mary was much too important to be given up so that Sam could join the Debate team or play soccer for a whole season. It's just the way it was.

Dean understood that. He cared very little about moving from hunt to hunt. He didn't care that they had gone to almost thirty different schools during their childhoods. And John thought that the boy hadn't cared that he couldn't join a sport's team or some stupid school club. _But, maybe he was wrong. Maybe Dean was just a really good actor._ _Maybe those things did mean something to his oldest._

* * *

By the third day of Dean being in the ICU, John had passed the point of his ability to sit still. Sam had rarely left Dean's bedside and it seemed that every conversation the two of them had ended with harsh words and angry glares. John knew that he needed to leave for a while. He also knew that he couldn't let Sam know that he was leaving. _The boy would surely have something to say about that._

He finally found his window of opportunity when one of the nurses finally talked Sam into taking a shower. Neither one of them had left the hospital or taken the time to get cleaned up, so the room was pretty ripe with the smell of stale sweat and body odor.

Sam lingered by his brother's bed for several minutes, before finally squeezing his hand and telling him that he'd be right back.

"Call me if anything changes, okay?" he told John as he walked out the door.

John gave Sam a five minute head start before he left the room, too. He made sure the nurses had his cell phone number before he left, but then he never looked back. Stepping out of the hospital, he made his way through the hospital parking lot, looking for an unlocked car to hotwire. Sam had taken the Impala and John's truck was still parked at the motel, since they had driven out to the lake together.

It didn't take him long to find an unlocked care and within minutes, he was driving out of the parking lot and heading back to the lake.

It took Sam almost an hour to get back to the motel, shower, and return to the hospital. In that time, he had checked his phone every few minutes, afraid that something would happen to his brother and that he would miss a call from his dad.

He was relieved to see that nothing had changed with Dean while he was gone. Feeling a lot better after his shower, he settled into his usual chair by the bed, his eyes focusing on Dean's still figure. After several minutes, he began to wonder where his dad had gone. He thought that maybe the man had stepped out to use the bathroom, but with each passing minute he became more and more concerned. Finally, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed his dad's number.

Unsurprisingly, John didn't answer the phone. Over the course of the next few hours, Sam left several messages for his father, each one more and more heated. It really didn't surprise him that John would leave, but he did wonder where the man had gone. He figured that either the man had gone to the nearest dive bar, needing a stiff drink or two, or that he had stupidly gone back to the lake to hunt the ghost. Sam's money was on the latter.

* * *

It was almost midnight when John finally returned to the hospital. Sam was uncomfortably curled up in the too small chair, his soft snores interrupting the gentle swooshing of the ventilator. One glance at Dean showed that the nurse had been in to reposition him since he had left. Without lingering on Dean for too long, he could tell that the boy most likely had a fever. Dean's face was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and the nurse had removed the pile of blankets that had been on him earlier. He also noticed that Dean's heart rate was a little faster than before.

Stepping over to the bed, he really looked at his son for the first time since they had come to the hospital. It was hard to look past the tubes that were obstructing Dean's face, but eventually he saw past the endotracheal tube and the nasogastric tube, to the face of the young man he loved and respected so much. And for a split second, he could see the shadow of the boy Dean used to be, so full of life and love before his mother had been cruelly taken from him.

Even though Dean was running a fever and his face was flushed, there was an underlying paleness that looked completely unnatural. His face appeared swollen, too, and John suspected this was from all the blood products and IV fluids he had received in the last few days.

Looking down, he noticed the chest tube that was sticking out of his son's chest. He couldn't imagine how painful the tube was and there was a part of him that was grateful that Dean was sedated. The nurses had been good about making sure that Dean wasn't uncomfortable, treating his pain with medications and repositioning whenever needed, and John was completely thankful for that.

Dr. Chase had mentioned earlier that the chest tube would more than likely be removed within a few days and that they could then begin to try to wean Dean off the ventilator. John couldn't wait to be able to talk to his son again.

After he was done checking Dean out, he turned to look at his youngest son. Even in his sleep, Sam looked exhausted. There were dark shadows under his eyes and an unnatural pallor to his face. John also noticed the way Sam's forehead was creased and wrinkled. He knew how worried Sam was for his brother. _Was he also worried that John had left? Or was he just mad that his old man had run off again?_

John supposed that he could have left a note for Sam, explaining what he was doing, but he wasn't used to having to explain his actions to anyone. He did what he needed to do and he didn't need to answer to anyone for that.

Obviously, Sam felt differently about that. When he woke up an hour later, he immediately jumped to his feet when he saw his father standing in the corner of the room.

"Where the hell were you?" he asked angrily.

"I needed some air," John answered.

"You needed air…"

"Yeah, son…. I needed air. I had to get out of here for a while."

"You were supposed to stay with Dean while I cleaned up, Dad. If I had known you were going to leave him alone, I would have stayed here. I wouldn't have left."

"I didn't leave him alone, Sam. There are nurses and doctors everywhere."

"You know what I mean. What if he woke up and we were both gone? He needed us here."

"He's fine, Sam. He didn't wake up."

"That's not the point and you know it. Once again, you've proven that a hunt is more important that your own son."

"Dean wouldn't have wanted me to quit the hunt," John argued. "He knows the hunt is important. And he doesn't need us as much as you think. Maybe you need to remind yourself of that, son."

"Dean wouldn't have wanted you to go back there by yourself, Dad. And he _does_ need us here. And he's more important than any hunt. Maybe you need to remind yourself of that."

Sam wasn't expecting the explosion that happened at his words. John, who by that time had had enough of his son questioning his actions, suddenly strode forward, stopping just inches away from Sam. Sam stood his ground while John yelled angrily. This went on for several long seconds before either of them noticed the sounds of the alarms going off in the room. Looking over at Dean, they noticed that he was trying to sit up in the bed and that he was reaching for the tube that was helping him breathe. Before they could do anything, Dean had somehow managed to grab the tube and pull it out. John and Sam both looked on helplessly as Dean coughed and sputtered before finally catching his breath. They could tell that he was trying to say something and by the time they made it to his bedside, they were able to finally make out what he was saying.

"Please! Just stop fighting. Please….."

Sam was about to respond to his brother when the door to the room flew open and several nurses surrounded Dean's bed. He and his dad had no choice but to take a few steps back and let the hospital staff do their jobs, but neither one of them failed to notice the desperate look on Dean's face.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry for the long wait, y'all. I had a little bit of writer's block on this one, so this chapter was a bit of a struggle. Just like John and Sam's relationship, right? Lol.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the chapter. And thanks so much for reading and reviewing. You guys are awesome.


	17. We May Be the First to Fall

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 17

We May Be the First to Fall

* * *

Dean felt like he was floating through deep, dark waters. He thought there might have been the tiniest, weakest sliver of light just far enough out of his sight that he wasn't sure it even existed. The darkness was all encompassing, shrouding him in indifference and cold, and at first, there was a complete absence of sound, too. He was unconcerned by the silence, in the beginning. In fact, he found it somewhat calming and soothing. Peaceful. Serene. He found that, for the first time in a long time, his mind wasn't swimming with chaos and dread of what was to come. For once, he allowed himself to forget everything- the hunt, the bitterness between his brother and father, the hated anticipation of what was going to happen when this hunt was over. Sam's inevitable return to school, John's inevitable departure to find another hunt, and his own inevitable return to solitude and loneliness. It hurt to think about it.

He had no idea how long he had been "floating," but eventually he noticed more light at the edge of his vision and sounds breaking through the silent serenity. He felt like fighting against whatever it was assaulting his senses, not yet ready to give up the peace he had found, but something told him not to. Finally allowing the light and sound to penetrate his being, it didn't take him long to realize that he was once again in the hospital. Nor did it take him long to recognize the raised voices he was hearing.

Sam and John were arguing again, each talking over the other in an attempt to make their points known. Dean tried to get their attention, starting with tapping in his hands against the side rails. When that didn't work, thanks to the restraints that were tying his hands to the bed, he started moving his feet. He was surprised by how weak he felt, and how exhausted he became just from kicking his feet, but he continued on.

Unfortunately, his brother and father were so caught up in their argument that they didn't notice his efforts. After somehow kicking one of his pillows off the bed without results, Dean decided to amp up his efforts. Using up most of his remaining energy, he scooted himself down in the bed, curled over onto his side as much as the restraints would let him, and leaned his head forward enough to allow himself to grab the tube in his mouth that was keeping him from talking. By this time, the alarms on the monitor had begun to sound off, but Sam and John still hadn't noticed. With one last big surge of strength, he yanked on the tube as hard as he could, surprising himself when it pulled out.

As he coughed and sputtered, desperately trying to catch his breath, the alarms of the heart monitor and ventilator finally caught the attention of Sam and John. Seconds later, they had scrambled to his bedside, looking on anxiously as Dean tried to speak. With his voice weakened by the trauma of yanking out the endotracheal tube, Dean was finally able to get out what he wanted to say.

" _Please! Just stop fighting. Please…."_

* * *

Sam and John watched anxiously as the door flew open and the medical staff sailed into the room, pushing them out of the way as they surrounded Dean's bed. They heard different words being yelled out and watched helplessly as the nurses fought with an agitated and upset Dean Winchester. Occasionally, they could hear Dean's weak voice, telling the staff to leave him alone and to get away from him. And after several minutes of struggling, they all finally stepped back, allowing Dean to calm himself down a little as one of the doctors tried to explain things to him.

"Mr. Winchester, we need to put that tube back in. Your oxygen saturations are too low."

"No."

"Mr. Winchester. You weren't ready for that tube to come out. Your lungs aren't ready for that. Please, let us do our jobs here."

"I said no," Dean insisted. "You're not putting that thing back in me."

The frustrated doctor looked over to John, hoping to garner some back-up from the man.

"Mr. Winchester, your son needs to be re-intubated. Can you talk to him?"

"It's not up to him," Dean rasped. "It's up to me and I'm saying no. No more tubes. Just leave me alone."

After realizing he wasn't getting anywhere with the stubborn patient, the young doctor turned back to the staff. "Let's do what we can without intubation, then. Kate, let's try a nasal cannula for now. And we should probably check an ABG in an hour. Also, let's get a chest x-ray to make sure that the chest tube is still in place."

Kate moved around the bed, carrying out her tasks with efficiency. Minutes later, the room had cleared out and Sam and John had been ushered out of the room while the x-ray was being done. Dean wouldn't ever admit it, but he felt awful. His lungs burned with each breath he took and he constantly felt like he couldn't get enough air, but there was no way he was letting them put that tube back down his throat.

And if anything at all good came out of the situation he now found himself in, it was that his dad and brother had stopped fighting. At least, for the moment.

When they returned to his room, though, Dean watched as both men ranted about how stupid and reckless he was for doing what he did. John threatened him with his normal John Winchester threats like "you pull a stunt like that again and you won't like what happens" and "if you weren't laid up in that bed, I'd show you how unhappy I am with your choices." Sam just kept asking him what he was thinking, as he stared at him with that hang-dog, puppy-eyed stare he had perfected by the time he was three years old.

But, Dean never gave into them. He knew that he really wasn't ready to be breathing on his own, but the deed was done and he had done what he had set out to do…. reestablish some semblance of peace within his family once again. He didn't regret it for a single second, even if his own comfort and wellbeing were at stake.

Eventually, Sam and John were finished with their individual tirades, leaving Dean to sink back against his pillow, exhaustion finally taking over as he struggled with each breath. Silence settled over the room and Dean was just about to fall asleep when Sam's voice stirred him.

"Why, Dean? Why did you do it? You had to know that you weren't ready?"

"I couldn't take it anymore," he answered weakly. "The fighting, the anger. The two of you don't realize how bad it is, Sam. You can't spend ten minutes together without getting into an argument."

"That's not true," Sam answered quietly.

"Yes, it is. And I can't take it anymore. You and Dad….. you're all I have, Sammy. The three of us…. we're all that's left of our family. And I can't stand by and watch it fall apart. I just can't, Sam."

Sam looked over at John, who was once again staring out the window. "I'm sorry, Dean. I don't know why, but he just knows how to get me riled up, you know?"

"I know why," Dean laughed. "It's because he's John freaking Winchester. He riles everyone up, Sam."

Sam laughed, too, agreeing with his brother. "He does, doesn't he?"

"Yeah, and I don't think he's going to change. He's way too stubborn for that."

"So, I guess that means I have to be the bigger man, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I'm sorry, Sam. But, it is what it is, right?"

"Famous John Winchester words," Sam sighed. "How many times did we hear that when we were growing up?"

"Too many times to count," Dean answered with a small smile.

* * *

The next few days went better than expected for the Winchesters. Dean eventually started to breathe better and by the third day, much to his relief, the chest tube was removed. Even more importantly to him, the foley catheter was taken out and he was slowly able to get up and walk to the bathroom to take care of business.

John and Sam had kept their arguing to a minimum, thanks to Sam's efforts to control whatever anger and annoyance he felt towards his father. John didn't seem to notice the effort his youngest was putting forth, but he had backed off a little himself. Dean wondered if the man finally realized the consequences of his behavior on his own. _Not likely, but anything was possible, right?_

Over the course of the next week, Dean went through a bevy of tests, therapy, and treatments, all bringing him to the point of finally being ready for discharge. As they spent the last night in the hospital, they finally returned to the task at hand…trying to figure out how to finish the hunt that had taken over and threatened to ruin their lives.

Dean was brought up to date on John's recent foray at the lake and he had quite a few choice words for the man. Of course, John didn't find anything wrong with the fact that he had gone off on his own and he made sure to let his son know that he was a grown man that could make his own decisions. One look from Sam had Dean backing off, knowing that it would be a complete waste of time to continue arguing with the man.

John was still mad that he hadn't even been able to locate the spirit, too. He told his boys that there were times at the lake when he felt the temperature drop, but the spirit never manifested itself to him, unfortunately. As they talked through the night, they finally came up with a workable plan that they all at least somewhat agreed upon. While Dean recovered a little longer in the motel room, John and Sam would do more research and pay another visit to Adam Masters, hoping to get the man to agree to help them however they needed.

It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was a plan.

* * *

Dean's discharge went as planned the next morning, but not before Dr. Porter made her presence known. Dean was arguing with one of the nurses on the need to be wheeled out in a wheelchair when the door opened and the doctor walked in.

"Hey, James," Dr. Porter said to the nurse. "I'll take it from here."

"Sure thing, Dr. Porter. Good luck with this one," the man said as he pointed at Dean. "He's a stubborn one."

James walked out the door and Dr. Porter turned to the three men in the room. She did a quick once over of Dean, noting that he still looked rather pale and tired.

"So, how are you feeling, Dean?" she finally asked.

"Wonderful," Dean answered. "And ready to get out of here."

"I bet you are. You've been here a little too much in the last month."

"I didn't want you to miss me, Doc," Dean said with as much charm as he could muster.

Dr. Porter found herself laughing at the goofy, but charming grin on the young man's face. She _had_ grown rather fond of both him and his brother recently.

"Well, as much as I'll miss you, Dean, I really don't want to see you back here again, okay? That means that whatever you two are getting up to down at the lake, knock it off. I don't think your body can take too much more."

"This body can take a lot, Doc. Trust me on that."

"I'm serious, Dean. Your lungs have been through enough trauma recently. Anything more might be too much."

Dean started to give another smart-ass answer, but after noticing the true concern in her eyes, he stopped himself. "I'll try my best to stay out of trouble. I promise," he finally said.

"Well, I guess that's all I can ask for, right? And Sam, that goes for you, too. I'd rather not see either one of you back here."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam agreed with a small smile. "I'll try to keep us both out of trouble."

After exchanging a few pleasantries and listening to the doctor instruct him once again on how he needed to rest and recuperate, Dean allowed Dr. Porter to wheel him out of the hospital and to the waiting Impala.

"Thanks, Doc. For everything," he said with a sincere smile.

"You're welcome. Take care, Dean."

She watched as Sam helped his brother into the front seat and laughed at Dean's indignant insistence that he could get himself in the car. She also laughed at the indulgent way John was looking at his sons, seemingly annoyed with their behavior, but obviously used to it, too.

 _They were quite the family._

* * *

Dean snoozed on the way back to the motel, his head leaning against the window and his breaths coming in short, but unlabored pants. John and Sam both knew that the morning's activities had tired Dean out, so they were happy to see him resting. Neither of them was looking forward to the next few days, knowing how impossible it would be to convince Dean to take it easy.

Dean didn't " _take it easy"_ very well. He wasn't one to lounge around, especially if he thought there was work to be done. Whenever he was sick or injured as a child, John would usually have to resort to threatening to take the boy over his knee for a sound spanking to get him to settle down and relax. Dean just didn't have it in him to stay still for too long.

When they arrived at the motel, John went to unlock the door while Sam tried to wake Dean up. He wished he could take a picture of his sleeping brother, whose mouth was hanging open and hair was mussed, but he valued his life too much. He knew that if he actually went through with it, Dean would find some way to get back at him and he would definitely get the bad end of that deal. As much as Sam never wanted to admit it, Dean's paybacks were legendary and usually unable to beat.

After several attempts to wake him, Sam finally took out the flask of holy water he always kept and threw some at Dean's face. He couldn't help but laugh when Dean woke up with a start, sputtering and wiping at his face.

"What the hell, dude?!" he sputtered when he saw his brother leaning towards him. "Why'd you do that?"

"Because we're back at the motel and you wouldn't wake up," Sam answered.

"Did you try to wake me up like a normal person?"

"I tried, Dean. You were out cold."

"Not cool, Sammy," Dean growled. "Not cool at all."

"Sorry. Next time I'll just pick you up and carry you inside myself. Would that be better?"

Dean glared at his younger, but bigger brother. "I'd like to see you try."

As soon as those words left his mouth, Dean regretted it. Within a second, Sam had leaned forward and tried to pick Dean up and out of the car. Dean held on to the roof of the car with both hands as Sam tried to throw him over his shoulder. Between Sam's grunting from the effort of picking his brother up and Dean's caterwauling at the indignity of being manhandled by his little brother, they were stirring up quite a ruckus. Seconds later, the door to the motel room opened and John's silhouette filled the doorway.

"BOYS!" he bellowed, causing both Sam and Dean to come to an instant halt. Sam lowered Dean to the ground, who by that time had let go of the roof of the car and was trying to straighten up. "Get in here!" John growled as he eyed both of his boys.

"Yes, sir," Sam and Dean said at the same time, both scrambling to do what John had commanded.

"Dude, he still knows how to make me feel like I'm ten years old," Dean muttered a little breathlessly, as he stepped past his dad.

"Tell me about it," Sam muttered back.

* * *

Back at Stow Lake, the ghost of Annabelle Fitzgerald wandered aimlessly around, looking for the young man that told her he knew where her son was. She remembered how angry she had been when he refused to tell her. And she remembered what it felt like to throw his body across the dock, to hear the sound of his bones cracking as he hit the railing, to hear the painful, gasping breaths he took through his battered lungs.

She glowed brightly with the energy of the rage that filled her. _How dare he keep her son from her!_

As she wandered around the lake, she thought about what she would do to the young man when she saw him again. The anger coursing through her lessened slightly at the thought of pulling Dean under water and into the cold, dark depths of the lake. His death would surely bring her the peace she was desperate for.

* * *

Author's note: Well, Dean's out of the hospital and although he's not back to one hundred percent, he's at least on the mend. The question is will it last? And will they figure out how to handle the ghost without someone getting hurt? Answers to come soon, I promise.

Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on everything.


	18. Everything Can Stay the Same

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 18

Everything Could Stay the Same

* * *

The next few days had been interesting to say the least. Dean had pretty much been grounded to the motel room by both John and Sam in an attempt to make him take it easy. John knew it would be like caging a tiger, but he was determined to see the boy get some rest. And, boy, did he have a fight on his hands.

At the moment, Dean had two different temperaments to deal with. The easiest to handle was the pouting, moping young man who hated being confined to the small room with nothing more to do than watch television and annoy his father with his whining. Dean would pace back and forth in the small space until John finally ended up yelling at him to sit down or to go take a shower or something! That would work for about an hour, but then Dean would be up on his feet again, starting the same circuit around the room. He was like a bored little kid.

The other temperament, though, was much harder to deal with and John found himself wishing he could just turn the boy over his knee and get it over with. Pacing the floor, slamming doors shut, huffing and sighing, throwing the TV remote across the room. Yes, a sullen, cranky, angry Dean Winchester was a force to be reckoned with, but John knew exactly how to handle him.

 _Or so he thought…._

"Dean! Sit down and shut up!" John finally yelled when Dean had finally pushed him too far. When the young man stayed on his feet, John felt his anger rising. "I said sit down!"

Dean just stared insolently at his father. "You can't tell me what to do, Dad. I'm not a kid!"

"Well, then stop acting like one," John growled. "And you're sorely mistaken if you think I can't tell you what to do. I'm your father, boy, and you'll do what you're told."

Dean glared at the man for several seconds before sitting down on the bed with a loud huff.

"This is stupid. I feel fine, Dad. There's no reason for me to be sitting around doing nothing while you and Sam do all the work. I'm not an invalid."

"Dean, Dr. Porter and Dr. Chase both said you need to take it easy for a while. And Sam and I are just doing some more research right now. Nothing more has happened at the lake, so we have a little time to figure things out and you have a little time to recuperate."

"I'm recuperated enough, Dad. I can't stay in this room for much longer."

John looked closely at his son who, in his opinion, still looked pale and drawn. "Son, you've only been out of the hospital for three days. Your body took a major hit."

"My body's fine," Dean grumbled. "It's my sanity that's in danger right now."

 _And mine_ , John thought. "Why don't we take a drive and get some dinner. Sam should be back soon and I'm sure he'll be hungry. You know how he gets after a day of learning."

* * *

Sam had gone back to school to attend a few of his classes and talk to his professors, trying to save the current semester, if he could. Even though he was staying up on the classwork, he knew that his continued absence was becoming a cause for concern and he hoped he could sweet-talk his way out of failing his classes.

So far his professors had been fairly accommodating, much to his relief. A few of them gave him extra work to do since he would still be missing most of his classes. He had explained to them that his brother had been recently hospitalized after almost dying and that he still needed to be closely watched. Luckily, they believed him.

Sam was also finally able to spend some time with his friends who, to his surprise, had been worried about him. He explained things as simply as he could, obviously not able to go into great detail about where he had been and what he had been doing. Luckily, they believed him, too.

The best part of his day was the time he spent with Jessica. He was shocked to find out how much she had missed him and even more shocked to realize just how much _he_ had missed _her._ He told her a little more about Dean being in the hospital than he had told the others, telling her that he had nearly drowned when their fishing boat overturned. Her concern over Dean's well-being was genuine and he couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed by how supportive she was being.

Eventually, his own concern for his brother started to rear its head and he felt a sudden desire to return to the motel to check on him. He wasn't too confident that Dean, with his impatient, can't sit still for too long, gotta do things my way attitude wouldn't drive their dad to do or say something stupid.

And of course, that's exactly what happened. When Sam returned to the motel room, Dean was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking like a cross between someone who had just lost their dog and someone who had just walked in on their wife in bed with another man.

John was nowhere in sight.

"Hey," Sam said as he looked around the room. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Dean snarled.

"Um….where's Dad?"

"He left."

"Where did he go?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know, Sam? Do you think he told me where he was going?"

Sam knew that John usually left with very little explanation on any given day. If he and Dean had gotten into a fight, John had more than likely stormed out the door without any explanation at all. _As usual._

"What happened?" Sam asked, eyeing the bags of food and several drained beer bottles on the small table.

"Dad happened."

Sam was getting tired of Dean's minimalist responses and was growing more and more frustrated by the second.

"Dean, are you really going to make me drag this out of you? What happened?"

Dean stood up and started pacing. It didn't escape Sam's notice that his breathing sounded a little raspier than normal and he was just about to comment on it when he changed his mind. By the look on Dean's face, now was not the time to bring up such a sensitive subject.

"He treats me like a kid," Dean finally said petulantly. "Except when he's piling on the responsibilities. Then I'm supposed to be an adult."

Sam still had no idea what had happened, but he decided not to push his brother at the moment. He figured Dean would probably get there on his own, without his help. He was right.

"He smacked me," Dean said with a pout.

Sam barely kept himself from laughing out loud at the look on Dean's face. "He smacked you…."

"Yeah, Sammy. He smacked me. Like I was a five year old! And then he told me to go to bed."

"He sent you to bed…."

"Yeah, Sammy. He sent me to bed. Why are you repeating everything I say?"

Sam ignored Dean's question and asked his own. "He sent you to bed and you went?"

"Of course not! I'm not a five year old."

"So, Dad got mad. He yelled, you yelled, he left. Is that it?"

"Yeah."

"Why did he smack you?" Sam asked.

"Does it matter?! He smacked me."

"Dean, I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here. What did you do to make him smack you?"

"Why do you think _I_ did anything?" Dean asked, obviously affronted by Sam's implication that this was all his fault.

"Come on, Dean. I know how you get when you're feeling claustrophobic and restricted. If I were guessing, I'd say you were probably driving him crazy by pacing around the room and…."

"And what?"

Sam hesitated for a short time, but decided to continue.

"Acting like a five year old?" he finished.

Dean's face turned beet red and he was just about to say something when the door opened to reveal John standing there.

"Sam, let's go," John said brusquely.

Sam immediately stood up, looking nervously between his brother and his father.

"Where are we going?' he asked.

"We have an appointment to meet Adam Masters in an hour, so we need to get going. Hurry up, the truck's running."

Dean stepped over and grabbed his jacket off the bed. "Let's go," he said as he walked to the door.

"You're staying here, Dean. Sam and I are going alone."

"No way," Dean said immediately. "I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not," John answered sternly. "You're staying here and you're getting some rest."

"Dad…"

"That's not up for debate, son. Sam and I will be back in a few hours."

Dean started to argue again, but stopped when he saw the look on his dad's face _. John Winchester meant business._

Dean threw himself back onto the bed, sighing loudly as the door closed behind his brother and father.

* * *

Sam wasn't really sure what his dad was trying to accomplish with their meeting with Adam Masters. Of course, John wouldn't ever think to share his train of thought with either of their sons, since all he expected of them was to blindly follow his orders.

Sam also wasn't sure how his dad had actually talked the man into meeting with them. Adam Masters had been pretty convincing the day he and Dean had gone to visit. He wanted no part in any of what they were telling him.

John had planned the meeting at a local pancake house, hoping to put the man at ease, rather than barge in on the privacy of his home and shatter his sense of security. Once they arrived at the restaurant, John and Sam took a corner booth in the back. John kept his eye on the door, but it was Sam who spotted the man first.

"There he is," Sam said quietly as he nodded his head in the direction of the man that had just walked through the door.

John stood up and stepped to the side of the booth, trying to catch the man's eyes as he looked around the restaurant. The man had just glanced in their direction when he saw John's upturned hand, waving slightly in his direction.

Sam was taken aback by the apparent condition of the man. Although he had been pale before, now the man's skin was practically gray. His shoulders were hunched forward and his gait seemed a little unsteady. He looked ill.

"Mr. Masters? My name is John Winchester. I understand you've already met my son, Sam."

Adam Masters nodded at Sam before turning his attention back to John. "Mr. Winchester, what do you want?"

"How about we take a seat and talk for a bit," John offered amicably.

"I don't plan on staying for too long, Mr. Winchester, so let's get on with it."

"Okay, Mr. Masters. My sons told me about your recent conversation. They explained to you the possible relationship between you and the ghost, right?"

Adam Masters looked around nervously, hoping that no one else was over-hearing their conversation.

"I really have no idea what you all are on about. Ghosts aren't real."

"I can promise, sir, that they are. And they are completely capable of wreaking havoc whenever they want and wherever they are."

At that time, Sam thought it might be a good time for him to interrupt. "Mr. Masters, I know this all seems a little crazy, but we really need your help."

"What do you mean? How can I help you take care of a murdering ghost? I'm just a tax accountant."

Sam continued before his father could. "Mr. Masters…. Adam…. We've traced your lineage back to who we believe to be your biological great-great-great-grandmother. I mean, it's a bit of a jump, but the timing of her baby's disappearance and your ancestor being abandoned all those years ago is too much of a coincidence. You have to be related."

"I still don't see how that matters."

"It matters because this spirit is killing people," John snapped. "She needs to be stopped."

"And I can help with that?" the man asked nervously.

"We think so," Sam answered a little more softly. "Maybe if you came with us out to the lake you could talk to her. Get her to understand what happened."

Adam looked around the diner nervously before turning back to the two Winchesters. "Fine," he growled. "What do I have to lose anyway?"

Sam didn't think it appropriate to tell the man that he actually stood to lose everything.

* * *

Dean had been pacing in the small room ever since his brother and father had left. He was still angry about being left behind and his anger grew with each passing second. He had just decided to take a shower, hoping the hot water would relax him some, when his phone rang. Making his way over to where he had thrown it onto the bed, he was surprised to see it was Sam calling.

"Sam? What's going on?"

"Hey, Dean. Dad wanted me to call and check on you. And to let you know we had a little change of plans."

"What does that mean?"

Sam knew his brother wasn't going to take the news well, but he had no choice. He definitely couldn't keep this from Dean.

"It means that Adam Masters agreed to work with us on this, so we're going back to the lake tonight. I'll call you as soon as we're done."

"Dude, you can't be serious?! I'm not staying here while you guys go back to the lake. No way!"

"Dean, Dad ordered you to stay there," Sam tried.

"Oh, so now you're okay with me following Dad's orders? Now you want me to be an obedient little soldier all of a sudden?"

"Dean…."

"No way, Sam. I'm not staying here."

Dean heard Sam start to say something, but the phone was ripped out of his hands by John.

"Dean? You'd better stay your sorry butt in that motel room, do you hear me?" John thundered. When Dean didn't reply, he continued. "I mean it, son. If you take one step out of that room, you and I are going to have a problem. Stay there. That's an order!"

A second later, the call was disconnected and Dean was left staring at his phone in disbelief. He couldn't believe his dad thought he was just going to sit back and do nothing while they headed back to the lake. No way. No way was he going to let Sam go anywhere near that lake without him there to protect him. Dean knew how his dad worked. He knew the man tried to protect them, but he also knew from past experiences that he wouldn't hesitate to use Sam as bait if need be.

And Dean could not…. _would not_ let that happen.

Without a second thought, Dean grabbed his jacket and car keys and headed out to the Impala.

* * *

Author's note: Oh, snap! What the heck is Dean thinking?! What the heck is John thinking?! I'm guessing we'll find out how this little plan works in the next chapter, but until then, hang on.

Thanks so much for reading. Reviews would be appreciated and adored.


	19. Or We Could Change It All

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 19

Or We Could Change It All

* * *

Sam had a bad feeling. He was on his way back to Stow Lake with his father and Adam Masters, while Dean was restricted to quarters back at the motel. Sam knew that Dean was probably extremely angry with being basically grounded like a child, but he also knew that his brother really wasn't up to dancing with a ghost at the moment. He needed to rest, to recuperate, to let his body heal. Not that Dean would agree with any of that.

Sitting in the truck with the two other men wasn't exactly a comfortable ride, especially given Sam's height. His shins were pushed up against the dashboard and his knees were practically touching his chest, making the ride miserable for him. Between his dad's truck and the Impala, Sam was convinced that his family was trying to torture him. At least when he was in the Impala, it was usually just him and his brother, making the ride a little easier.

There wasn't much conversation along the way, but when they were about ten miles away from the lake, Adam spoke up.

"Do you ever think that life is just a cruel joke?"

Sam and John shared a look with each other before Sam answered. "It sure can seem like that sometimes."

"Do you want to hear something funny? I've lived my whole life trying to do the right thing. I never cheated in school. I make sure to always return my shopping cart to the cart carousel. I open doors for everyone. I exercise daily and eat healthy. I even gave up coffee last year. But what did that get me? Stage 4 pancreatic cancer. One of the deadliest forms of cancer. Did you know that?"

John's grip on the steering wheel tightened. He stared straight ahead, opting to keep his mouth shut and let Sam handle the situation. Sam looked out the window, not really knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry, man. That's, uh…. that's awful."

"My doctor said I ignored the symptoms for too long and that there really isn't much they can do for me. He said that as he was doodling on a page from my chart. As if it wasn't important enough information to give me his full attention."

Silence reigned in the cab of the truck for almost a full minute.

"I don't want to die, but I guess I don't have a choice, do I? And it's not like I'm leaving much behind. I don't have any family to speak of. I work at a job I hate. I have no real friends. And I woke up this morning to find Sam and Frodo floating belly up in the tank. I'm pretty sure I haven't been feeding them enough."

Silence reigned in the cab again, but this time it continued as all three men just stared out the window.

* * *

They arrived back at the lake just the sun was setting. It seemed that news of the strange happenings at the lake had finally broken through to the locals, so the lake was empty when they arrived. At least by the docks.

John and Sam jumped out of the truck and moved around to the back to load up their duffels with whatever they thought they might need. Afterwards, they moved back around to the front of the truck, surprised to see Adam Masters still sitting in the front seat.

"Masters? Let's go," John said as he held the door open for the man.

Adam looked at the two Winchesters, obviously not ready to get out of the truck. "Wait," he said. "What exactly are we going to do? Just walk up and start talking to a ghost? Really?"

"Mr. Masters, it's okay. We won't let anything happen to you, okay?" Sam tried to make the man feel better, but he didn't think it was working. Adam Masters looked like he was about to pass out.

"What am I doing here?!" he asked, obviously talking to himself and not expecting an answer from John or Sam.

"Mr. Masters, this ghost has been hurting people and we might have the chance to stop her. But we need your help. You might be able to get through to her in a way we can't."

"So what? You think that just because I may be her long-lost descendant, she'll listen to me?"

"We don't know for sure, but it's the only play we have right now."

John looked like he was just about to bodily lift the man out of the truck, when Adam finally stepped down.

"If it would make you feel better, we can give you one of these," Sam said, pointing to the shotgun he was holding.

"N-no…. that's okay," Adam stammered. "I'll leave the gun-totin' to you two."

John headed off to the dock, followed closely by Adam. Sam brought up the rear, keeping his eyes on the rear of the group and what was behind them. The night was clear and there was barely a breeze in the air. The lake was as still as Sam had ever seen it before. In fact, everything was so calm that it was almost eerie.

Walking out onto the dock, Sam and John formed a tight group, keeping Adam squarely in the middle of them. They turned slowly in a circle, eyes focusing outward, looking for any movement at all.

It was Sam that saw her first. He was looking along the shoreline to the left of the dock when he saw the faintest shimmer of something. As he watched, the shimmer turned into something more substantial, finally coalescing into the undeniable form of Annabelle Fitzgerald.

"Dad!" Sam called out. "She's here."

John quickly turned to face the direction Sam was pointing in, immediately seeing the ghost. Adam turned, as well, but his reaction was much different than John's.

"Oh my God! What is that?! Is that her?"

"That's her, Adam. Just stay behind us, okay?" Sam placed himself directly in front of the man, hoping to protect him as much as he could. He could feel Adam's hand resting on his back, the warmth seeping through his shirt. They watched as the woman continued to walk toward them, her dress flowing softly around her. She seemed to be looking for something and somehow Sam could tell that she was growing angrier by the second.

Eventually, she made it to the dock.

* * *

Dean wouldn't ever admit it, but the effort it took to walk to the Impala, drive to the lake, and hike the quarter mile from where he hid the Impala to the dock, just about did him in. He hated admitting weakness of any kind, but it was obvious that his body was weak.

He didn't care, though. He couldn't just sit back and allow his father to put Sammy in danger. And he knew that was exactly what would happen. John Winchester had tunnel vision when it came to a hunt. Dean knew that John wouldn't set out to put Sam in danger, but the man wouldn't weigh the risks as closely as Dean would. And Dean wouldn't ever knowingly place Sam in danger, if he could help it.

As he made his way to the dock, he took in his surroundings, wanting to know exactly what he was up against. He was surprised to find the dock empty, though, and he suddenly was questioning what exactly was going on. He had no idea where his brother and father were, but it stood to good reason that they would have started at the dock, where almost every encounter with the ghost had happened so far.

As he walked out to the end of the dock, he looked up and down the shoreline. He was just about to turn around and head back toward the Impala when he heard the voices. He was pretty sure he could make out his dad's and brother's voice. And someone was angry. Without hesitation, Dean ran back to the start of the dock and jumped down onto the small beachy area, making his way down to where he thought the voices were coming from.

As he got closer, he could make out the words more clearly _. It seemed like the spirit wasn't very happy._

* * *

The spirit suddenly materialized in front of them, causing Adam to stumble backwards in fear. He still had a grip on Sam's shirt, so Sam stumbled backwards, as well. In that split second of time, the spirit made her move, grabbing Sam by the throat and pulling him forward.

John barely had time to move before the spirit had Sam and was moving away with him. Sam struggled against her, but her supernatural strength was too much for him. He continued to struggle, but she easily moved him back down to the beach.

John could hear Sam trying to talk to her, but she wasn't listening. As he made his way after his son, he could hear the words that were coming out of her mouth.

 _Where is he? Why isn't he here?_

"Annabelle! Wait!" Sam cried, trying to break through to her. "Wait!"

Annabelle ignored Sam as she pulled him closer to the water. She seemed to be looking frantically around, searching for someone. Sam wondered why she didn't just take him into the water like she had done before.

 _Where is he? He lied to me….._

Sam had a sudden suspicion that she was talking about Dean. He remembered how angry she had been when Dean told her that they knew where her son was, but then couldn't produce him straightaway. Ghosts weren't exactly known for their patience.

"He's not here," Sam ground out. "But there is someone else you need to talk to. Someone who can give you some answers, Annabelle.

 _Where is he?_

By this time, John had joined them on the small beach, a reluctant Adam Masters in tow. John tried talking to the spirit, but she wanted nothing to do with him. Sam knew that she was so focused on her anger that she wasn't really seeing what was right in front of her.

"Annabelle, listen," Sam tried again. "This man right here…. He's your family, Annabelle."

 _No, he's not._

For the first time since she had taken Sam, Annabelle seemed to really look at him. Letting go of him, she looked up at him anxiously. Sam couldn't help but feel sorry for her as he witnessed the sadness and loneliness that permeated her being.

 _Johnathan, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I only looked away for a moment. That's all. Just a moment._

Sam knew that she thought he was her husband and he tried to take advantage of the situation.

"Annabelle, it's okay. I don't blame you. It's not your fault."

 _But, it is. I shouldn't have looked away from him, Johnathan. I just….I was so lonely and I just wanted to talk to someone. She was so nice to me and we had such a nice talk. But when I looked up, he was gone. He was gone, Johnathan. I looked everywhere, but I couldn't find him._

"I don't blame you, Annabelle. It was a horrible accident," Sam tried to break through to her.

 _It wasn't an accident. That man knows where my baby is. He took him. He took him and he won't give him back._

Sam and John knew they were no closer to putting this spirit to rest than they had been when they first arrived. If anything, she was now even more riled up. It was obvious that reasoning with her wasn't going to solve anything. And she barely even noticed Adam's presence. Instead, she just became more and more irate, asking the same thing over and over.

 _Where is he?_

 _Where is he?_

 _Where is he?_

It was after she had asked the question for at least the tenth time that she finally got her answer.

* * *

Dean stepped onto the beach and quickly made his way to where the small group was standing. He could feel anger shoot through him when he saw the ghost holding his brother by the throat. Sam didn't look to be in any particular distress, but it still infuriated Dean. It also made him wonder why she wasn't fixated on Sam being her long-lost husband anymore. _Ghosts can be so fickle_ , he thought with a laugh.

As he made his way forward, with no one yet the wiser to his presence, he listened to what was being said. It was obvious, as he made his way closer, that the ghost now once again thought that Sam was her long-lost husband. It was also obvious that she was truly angry with someone. Dean had no doubt that that someone was him.

As he listened to her repeatedly asking the same question again and again, he couldn't take it anymore. Stalking forward the last several steps, he burst into the small circle, making his presence known for sure.

"I'm here," he growled as he stepped in between a very angry Annabelle and a shocked, but also angry Sam Winchester.

 _You!_

"Dean!"

Annabelle and Sam both yelled at the same time, followed by another angry voice.

"Dean! What the hell are you doing here?" John Winchester yelled.

Dean didn't bother answering his brother or his father, choosing instead to keep his attention on the angry spirit that was now grabbing _his_ throat.

 _Where is he? Where's my son?_

"Listen, Annabelle. Your son's gone and he's not coming back."

"Dean!" Sam yelled, wondering what the hell his brother was doing.

"Son, what are you doing?" John asked in a low voice.

Dean held up a single hand, holding Sam and John at bay. He truly didn't know if what he was doing would work, but he really thought they had no other choice. Finding her body to salt and burn would be impossible and whatever their plan was with Adam Masters was a bonafide dud.

"Annabelle, there's no easy way to tell you this. You're a ghost."

Annabelle's hands grasped his throat even tighter. Dean could feel his vision graying a little and knew he didn't have too much time left before he would lose consciousness. _He was getting really tired of this woman kicking his butt._

"Listen," he tried again. "Annabelle, you died here at this lake almost a hundred years ago. You've been wandering around all this time searching for your baby. You've hurt people, Annabelle, because you thought they took your baby. But, your baby's been missing for a long time. If he were alive he'd be in his 80s."

 _You're not making any sense. Johnathan, what is he saying?_

Still holding onto Dean's throat, Annabelle turned to look at Sam. Sam joined in on Dean's efforts to set everything straight, even though he didn't think it would work.

"Annabelle, I'm not your Johnathan. My name is Sam. I know I look like your husband, but I'm not. And my brother is telling the truth. We think we tracked your son down, but he's not alive, Annabelle. He passed away almost twenty years ago."

Dean could tell that the ghost was becoming more and more agitated and he needed to get her attention off of Sam. Wriggling as much as he could, he tried to escape her grasp or at least bring her attention back to him. He got his wish seconds later when she tightened her grip even more. Suddenly, Dean was finding it even harder to talk.

To his dismay, he noticed his dad bringing his shotgun up and pointing it at the ghost. "Dad! Don't!" he cried out. "Just wait!"

"I'm done waiting, Dean!" John growled. "I'm tired of this crap. This needs to end. Now!"

"How are you going to end it, Dad?" Sam asked. "If you shoot her, it's just going to piss her off more. It won't solve anything."

"It'll make me feel better," John yelled. "It's a better plan than all this touchy-feely, chick flick conversation we got going on."

Dean rolled his eyes at his father's macho attitude. _It wasn't like the man had a better idea._

 _It's all my fault. I wasn't paying attention. He's dead because of me._

As angry as Dean was at the ghost for everything she had put them through, he couldn't keep from feeling sorry for her. Her desperation and sadness was almost palpable.

"It's not your fault, Annabelle. And he's not dead because of you. He lived a happy life. For over sixty years."

Dean could tell that she still wasn't understanding him, but he continued.

"Annabelle…. That day at the lake. You sat down on a bench and had a nice talk with someone, remember? You took your eyes off of him for just a moment and no one blames you for that. He was right there next to you, safe and sound. But, someone took him from you. I know you thought he rolled into the lake at first, but that's not what happened. Someone took him and ran. They took him several towns over and then they left him. Maybe they just got scared or something. They left him on the side of the road and someone else found him. They went to the police with him, but no one ever filed a missing child report. That same day, you were so distraught when you found him gone. So distraught when you thought his stroller had rolled into the lake. Witnesses said you went into the lake looking for him. That you kept diving into the water, searching for him. Diving over and over and over again until one time you never resurfaced."

Dean's voice was failing him, both from the recent trauma as well as from the still present pressure of the ghost's fingers around his neck. He glanced over at Sam who seemed to realize that Dean needed him to take over. Taking a step over to Dean's side, Sam continued the story.

"You died at the lake that day, Annabelle. And your baby was taken in by a nice couple named Tom and Evelyn Masters. They adopted him and raised him." Sam paused for a short period before turning and pointing at Adam, who was standing completely still, looking like he was going to pass out at any moment. "This man is your son's great-great-grandson."

Annabelle finally released her hold on Dean who immediately fell to his knees, taking in deep breaths as fast as he could. His head was swimming and his heart was racing, but the sudden increase in oxygen kept him from passing out. John made his way over to Dean, who uncharacteristically allowed his father to help him to his feet.

They both watched as Annabelle drifted over to Adam. The man was hyperventilating, but seemed to calm slightly when Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. Annabelle seemed to be staring deep into his soul and he was finding it harder and harder to breathe.

 _I know you….._

"What? N-no. I d-don't think so," Adam stuttered.

 _I do…. It's you…. You came back to me._

"What's going on?" Adam asked frantically.

"Adam, it's okay," Sam answered, trying to calm the man down.

 _Come with me…._

Annabelle grabbed Adam's arm and started pulling him towards the lake, but Sam stepped in between them. Before He could say anything, Dean stepped in front of Sam, pushing both him and Adam behind him.

 _Get out of my way…._

Annabelle pushed Dean aside trying to get to Adam, but Dean quickly scrambled back into position. With another almighty push, Dean went flying sideways, landing against one of the dock's post. With a loud oomph, all of his breath left his body. Sam and John immediately ran to his side only to leave Adam unprotected.

Without hesitation, Annabelle started towards the lake with Adam in tow. Adam was calling out for help, but before any of the Winchesters could help he was dragged into the lake. Sam quickly followed, completely ignoring the yells coming from his father and the whispered gasps coming from Dean. He dove into the cold water, searching frantically for any sign of Adam or Annabelle. The lake was completely serene, without a single ripple to be found.

"Dad! Do you see him?" Sam asked as he prepared to swim out further.

"No!" John yelled.

Sam dove into the lake several more times but continued to come up empty-handed. His heart was beating fiercely and his breaths were coming in quick, painful gasps. Eventually, his muscles started to cramp from the cold and he knew he needed to get out of the water. He didn't want to give up on finding Adam, but he knew he wouldn't be able to take the cold for too much longer. Climbing out of the lake, he made his way back over to his father and brother.

"What just happened?" Dean croaked as he stared out at the lake.

"We let him die," Sam answered angrily. "We didn't protect him like we said we would."

"Maybe it's for the best," John said. "I think she finally got what she wanted so her spirit can be at rest now."

"Dad! What are you saying?" Sam asked incredulously. "Adam just died."

"He was already dying, Sam. Remember?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, totally clueless about the conversation in the truck.

"It's a long story, Dean. We can fill you in when we get to the motel.

"Dad, we can't just leave him out there. We have to find him. Or alert the authorities."

"Sam, you heard him. He has no family, no friends. No one will be looking for him. And I don't think the lake will be giving him up anytime soon. I think Annabelle will have made sure of that. And we can't get the authorities involved. They'll have too many questions that we can't answer."

Sam looked over at his brother, hoping he could talk some sense into their father. "Dean?"

"I don't know, Sam. I think Dad may be right on this one. I mean…"

Whatever Dean was going to say next was cut off by a serious coughing fit.

"Sam, we need to get your brother back to the motel. He shouldn't be out here."

Sam took one last look around the lake before turning back to help Dean. All three of them piled into the cab of the truck so that John could drive them to where Dean had left the Impala. Once they were there, Sam helped Dean out of the truck. Just as he was almost out, John stopped them.

"Boys, I want you to go straight back to the motel. No stops anywhere, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," both boys answered.

"We have a lot to talk about and I can't wait to hear why you thought it was okay to disobey a direct order to stay put, Dean."

Dean knew by the steely sound of his father's voice that the man was extremely unhappy.

"Sounds like someone's been naughty," Sam teased half-heartedly. He was still feeling like they had done wrong by Adam Masters.

After settling Dean into the passenger seat, Sam climbed in behind the wheel of the Impala. It was a testament to how poorly Dean was feeling that he didn't even protest Sam taking the wheel.

"Don't worry, Sammy. I can handle the old man."

"Oh, yeah? Like you handled him that time you were caught making out with Pastor Jim's niece in his pantry? If I remember right, that didn't turn out too good for you, Dean."

"Yeah, but it was worth it, Sammy. Getting to second base with Sarah was definitely worth not being able to sit comfortably for a few days."

Sam just smiled at his brother. _Damn, but he was incorrigible_.

* * *

Author's note: I'm truly sorry for the long wait on this chapter. It's been a little (and by that I mean a lot) challenging, to say the least, but I hope it all makes sense to you and works for you.

With the ghost of Stow Lake now having been taken care of, I'm not sure where this story will go. Are you guys interested in a continuation of this story? I would love to hear your thoughts on that and on the story as a whole.

Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting. You guys are amazing.


	20. Chapter 20

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 20

Meet Me on the Battlefield

* * *

The trip back to the motel was made mostly in silence, with both Sam and Dean feeling guilty about what had happened to Adam Masters and neither one of them considering the events of the evening a win. They weren't even really sure that Annabelle's ghost was actually at rest either.

On top of their guilt and frustration, they both knew that their dad would be in an awful mood when he returned and neither one of them were looking forward to the inevitable confrontation. If there was one thing John Winchester didn't tolerate, it was one of his sons not following orders. Both of them disobeying him would probably send him over the edge.

Once they arrived at the motel, Sam helped Dean out of the Impala and into the motel room. Again, it was a testament to how bad Dean was feeling that he didn't push his brother away. Once they were inside the room, Dean went straight to the nearest bed and flopped down on his back, his feet still planted on the floor. He only lasted for thirty seconds, though, because he found it too hard to breathe lying flat.

Pulling himself back up, he piled several pillows against the headboard and leaned himself against them before closing his eyes. Sam watched as Dean's chest rose and fell quickly. He could tell that the respirations were too shallow and fast to be healthy. He could also tell that they were painful. Dean's face was pale and there was a fine sheen of sweat covering his body.

"How are you feeling, Dean?" Sam asked after several minutes of watching his brother struggle to breathe.

"I'm good," Dean answered quietly.

"Come on, Dean. You're not good and you know it."

"Leave it alone, Sam. I'll be fine."

Sam threw his hands up in frustration and sat down at the small table, wishing his brother wouldn't be so stubborn. Not willing to give up on helping Dean, he turned back to look at him again.

"Can I do anything for you?" he asked.

Dean was silent for almost a full minute before finally speaking. "Maybe get me some water? Or a beer?"

Sam got up and grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge. Taking it over to Dean, he handed it to him and then started untying his boots. Dean didn't say anything to stop him, so he continued to untie his boots and pulled them off, letting them drop to the floor with a loud thunk.

Dean had taken several sips from the water bottle before it slipped from his hands and fell to the floor. He bent over to pick it up, but quickly straightened himself up when his head started spinning wildly.

Sam watched as the last bit of color drained from Dean's face. "Dean?"

Dean held up his hand, trying to tell Sam to give him some time. Focusing on trying to slow his breathing down, he finally felt the room stop spinning. "Well, that was fun," he said with a laugh.

"Your idea of fun is a little warped," Sam teased. "Just like the rest of you."

"Watch it, Sammy. Don't mess with the bull or you'll….."

Dean suddenly started coughing harsh enough to make his head spin again. Sam watched as his face turned red, then purple, then an interesting shade of bluish-gray. Rushing back to his brother's side, he started clapping him on the back.

"Come on, Dean. Breathe…."

"What do you…. think I'm… trying to do…Sam?" Dean gasped out. "And quit….hitting…. me!"

Sam stopped pounding Dean on the back and stared at his brother sheepishly. He was relieved to see that his color was returning to a reasonable facsimile of normal. Eventually, Dean's breathing also returned to a relative normal, much to his relief. Sam stepped into the bathroom and came back out a few seconds later holding a wet washcloth.

"Here you go," he said as he handed the washcloth to his brother.

"Thanks, Sammy."

Dean eventually leaned back on the pillows and closed his eyes. "I'm okay," he said before Sam could ask him how he was doing.

Sam didn't look convinced, but he didn't give in to his need to check Dean out again. Instead, he bent down and picked up the water bottle and placed it on the bedside table, making sure it was within Dean's reach. "Your water is right here," he said.

"Thanks."

"Try to get some rest, Dean. Okay?"

He was a little surprised when Dean didn't argue with him. A few minutes later, he heard Dean softly snoring and he was finally able to relax himself.

* * *

John Winchester was pissed. If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was when his boys didn't follow his orders. They were raised to follow his orders without question or hesitation, so when they didn't, he was furious. Of course, Sam had been balking at his orders since he was old enough to walk, but Dean was different. Dean almost always followed orders.

Of course, there had been many times through the years when Dean tried to get around his orders innovatively. John would often find it hard to punish his son for disobedience when he heard Dean's take on why he wasn't necessarily disobeying. Like the time he told Dean he couldn't go to the Boston concert because they couldn't afford it, only to find out that the boy went after winning a ticket from a local radio station. Or the time he told him that he couldn't go to a party because Sam couldn't be left alone in the motel room, only to find that Dean went to the party and took his brother with him.

Of course, John still punished his son, no matter how hard he found it to do. He couldn't let the boy think that it was okay to circumvent his orders, regardless of how ingeniously he did it.

There had also been a few times through the years where Dean just outright defied him. It could be said that he usually had a good reason for his defiance, but that really didn't matter to John. Defiance was defiance and he couldn't allow it.

It had been easy to deal with Sam and Dean's disobedience when they were younger. They knew what to expect from John when they messed up- extra chores, early bedtimes, extra training, restrictions, a John Winchester butt-whooping.

It was much harder now, though. He still expected obedience, but now he really had no way to enforce it. Sam and Dean were adults and other than the long, ear-numbing lectures he was known for, he really had no other tools in his tool belt for dealing with them. It wasn't like he could just take them over his knee for a sound spanking anymore.

After tonight's fiasco at the lake, John was at a loss as to what to do. He had told Dean to stay in the motel room, but of course the boy had taken it upon himself to join them at the lake, effectively putting himself in danger again. And Sam refused to listen to John's directive to stop when the ghost pulled poor Adam Masters into the lake. He had been forced to watch one son get thrown into the railings of the dock and the other son wading out into the potentially deadly lake, chasing after a murderous spirit.

He was pissed. In fact, he was so pissed that he felt like he needed to stay away from his boys for a while. He needed to cool off before returning to the motel room to deal with them. He needed a drink.

* * *

It was almost four hours later when John finally made it back to the motel. Dean had fallen into a restless sleep and Sam was still awake, keeping a close eye on his brother. There had been several times in the last few hours where Dean's breathing had sounded too labored for Sam's liking, so he was afraid to go to sleep.

When the knock finally sounded on the door, Sam slowly made his way over to open it. He knew exactly what he was going to find on the other side of the door. He knew that John would come stumbling in, that he had probably had one too many drinks at the bar. He knew the man would be pissed and dealing with a drunk, pissed off John Winchester was nearly impossible.

But, he didn't have a choice. It wasn't like he could refuse to let the man in, even if that was what he really wished he could do.

Before he could get the door open, he heard his father's voice, yelling through the thin door.

"Dean! Sam! Open the damn door and let me in!"

Sam looked through the peephole in the door, making out the shape of his father in the darkness. He definitely looked drunk. And angry.

Sam opened the door and stepped aside so John could step in. John pushed the door open even wider as he walked in, nearly knocking Sam over in the process. Once he had cleared the doorway, Sam shut the door and locked it, before making sure the salt lines were still intact.

"What the hell, Sam?! You didn't even ask for the password before opening the door. I could have been a shapeshifter or a demon, boy."

Sam didn't answer his father, knowing that it wouldn't do him any good. Instead, he moved over to his bed and sat down on the edge. He watched as John took in the scene around him, quickly finding his oldest son, who was covered up with blankets and sound asleep.

"Dean! Wake up!" John yelled loudly.

"Dad! Let him sleep. He needs to rest."

"Don't you tell me what to do, boy," John growled. "I want to know just what he was thinking when he left this room today. I told him to stay put!"

"Dad, please. He's still not feeling well. And he just fell asleep."

John looked over at Dean and looked like he was going to wake him up anyway. He must have noticed that Dean's breathing was still a little off, though, because he backed away from the bed and sat down at the table.

"You boys need to learn to listen to me" he said angrily. "I gave you both a direct order and you both disobeyed me. I won't stand for that!"

"Dad, it's almost two o'clock in the morning. Can't we talk about this tomorrow?"

John looked like he wasn't quite ready to call it quits, but after looking over at Dean again, he agreed to shelve it for the moment. Turning to look at his youngest, he gave him another order.

"Go to bed, Sam. I guarantee you that you'll need your rest for tomorrow. I have every intention of tearing both you and your brother a new one."

"Yes, sir," Sam agreed, mostly to get his father out of the room quicker.

Once John had left for his own room, Sam turned back to his bed, intent on climbing into it and trying to get some sleep. He stopped next to Dean's bed, wanting to check on his brother one more time. Just before he turned away, Dean's voice came from under the pile of blankets he was covered with and startled him.

"Is he gone?" Dean asked.

"You're awake?!" Sam asked.

"Yeah. I woke up when he yelled at me to wake up."

"Thanks for leaving me to handle him, Dean."

"You were doing a good enough job without me, Sammy. You didn't need me. And good choice on just agreeing with him when he sent you to bed."

"He didn't _send_ me to bed, Dean."

"He said 'go to bed, Sam.' Those were his exact words," Dean laughed. "I'm pretty sure he sent you to bed."

"Shut up, Dean. And go back to sleep."

"Hey, don't get your panties in a twist, Sammy. I was just helping you to preserve the peace for a little while longer. If he thought I was awake, there's no way he would have agreed to wait until morning to yell at us. You should be thanking me for being such a good actor."

"Thank you, jerk."

"You're welcome, bitch. Now turn out the light so I can sleep."

Sam climbed into his bed, reached over and turned off the lamp next to their beds, and rolled over onto his side. He was asleep within seconds.

* * *

Author's note: Well, here you go, y'all. I know it's a little short and lot late, so I apologize. Life has been a little busy lately.

I feel like this story is coming to a natural end, so I'm wondering if you guys want me to continue it with another adventure or end it and start a new story. Let me know what you all think, okay? And for those of you reading my other Supernatural story, I'm hoping to have another chapter up tomorrow.

Thanks so much for being patient. And for reading and reviewing. Take care.


	21. We're Standing Face to Face

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 21

We're Standing Face to Face

* * *

Neither Sam nor Dean slept well. Of course, neither one of them would admit it out loud, but their sleep was frequently disturbed by dreams of what had happened to Adam Masters. They both felt guilty for letting the poor man fall victim to the ghost's machinations and even though it seemed the ghost was probably gone and everything was over, they still counted the whole thing as a failure.

When the morning sun filtered in through the gap in the motel curtain, both boys finally woke up, more tired than they had been when they first laid down.

"How'd you sleep?" Sam asked a yawning Dean as he tried to stifle his own yawn.

"Fine. How about you?"

"Fine."

Dean pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed, kicking his legs out as they got caught up in the sheets. He ran his hands over his face and then through his hair before turning to his brother.

"What time is it?"

Sam looked at his phone. "It's almost seven," he answered as he climbed out of bed. "I call dibs on first shower."

"Not if I beat you in there," Dean said as he tried to jump up. Unfortunately, his foot was still caught up in the sheet and he felt himself falling forward. "Damn it!"

Sam laughed as he grabbed his duffle bag and made his way into the bathroom. Dean could hear him still laughing as he shut the door and started the shower. As he untangled himself from the sheet and picked himself up off the floor, he heard several sharp knocks on the door.

"Damn it," he said again, thinking it was much too early to be dealing with an angry John Winchester. However reluctant he was to answer the door, though, he quickly made his way over to it. "Who is it?" he called out, trying not to laugh at how annoyed his dad would be.

"Open the door, Dean," John bellowed. "It's too early for your crap."

"We don't need Housekeeping. Thanks anyway."

"Dean!" John bellowed even louder.

"Who is this?" Dean asked. "Identify yourself."

He could hear John cursing through the door and knew if he didn't open it, the man would be kicking it in very shortly. Opening the door, he looked up at his dad, giving him his most charismatic grin. "Morning, Dad!"

"Knock it off, Dean. It's too early for your crap."

"Well, it looks like _someone_ got up on the wrong side of the bed…"

"Dean!" John glared at his son, looking like he was just about ready to knock him upside the head. Dean knew it was time to back off before he pushed his dad too far. And once John saw that Dean was backing down, he looked around the room. "Where's Sam?"

"He's in the shower. Should be almost done."

"Good. We need to talk."

Dean didn't like the sound of that, but he knew it was inevitable. There was no way John Winchester was going to let anything slide. He just didn't operate that way.

* * *

While they were waiting for Sam to get done in the bathroom, John paced the small room and Dean sat uncomfortably on his bed. He really wanted coffee, but since there wasn't any available, he got up and grabbed a beer out of the small refrigerator.

"It's a little early for beer, Dean," John scolded.

"It's five o'clock somewhere," Dean answered with a grin.

"Put the beer away."

Dean started back towards the refrigerator, but stopped after a few steps. "You do realize that I'm an adult, right? That I can drink a beer if I want to?"

John didn't answer, but his glare never left his son. Dean figured he wasn't really up to arguing about something as innocuous as a beer, so he decided to take the path of least resistance and just put the beer away. Several more minutes of awkward silence filled the room before John stepped over to the bathroom and pounded on the door.

"Sam! Hurry up!"

Dean heard the shower shut off and knowing his brother would be out of the bathroom soon, he started to prepare himself for what was to come. John was obviously in a surly mood and Dean knew how poorly Sam reacted to that side of their father. They were more than likely in for a doozy of a morning.

* * *

Sam was enjoying the hot shower, marveling at the more than adequate water pressure that was usually missing from the motels they stayed in. He was just beginning to think about getting out of the shower, knowing that Dean would kill him if he used all the hot water, when he heard pounding on the bathroom door.

"Sam! Hurry up!"

Sam wasn't surprised to hear his father yelling through the thin door. When he woke up that morning, he figured it wouldn't be too long before their father showed up, anxious to talk about all the ways his boys had screwed up the day before.

Turning off the shower, Sam quickly dried himself off with the thin towel and got dressed. He really wanted to shave and brush his teeth, but he figured he'd better get out there and save his brother from facing John's wrath alone.

Once he opened the door, he looked around, taking in the scene before him. John was pacing back and forth, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets. Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to look like he didn't have a care in the world, but profoundly failing. They both looked up at him when they heard the door open.

"It's about time," John growled, looking at his youngest.

"You leave me any hot water, Sammy?" Dean asked. "You were in there a long time."

"There's still some left."

"Okay, then I'm gonna grab a shower." Dean stood up and grabbed his own duffle bag.

"Hold up, Dean. We're going to talk first."

"Come on, Dad. I could really use a shower. And what about breakfast? Or coffee?"

"I said we're going to talk first," John answered.

"Dad, Dean needs to take his medicine. And he needs to take them with food. Let me run out and grab something while Dean showers."

John didn't look happy to have to wait, but he could understand Sam's reasoning. "Fine. Dean, get in the shower while Sam grabs some breakfast."

Dean and Sam shared a quick look. "Hey, Sammy…. Bring me back some bacon, okay? And pancakes. And don't forget the coffee."

"Anything else, your highness?" Sam laughed.

"Yeah. I could eat an omelet, too. One with meat and real eggs, though, okay? I don't want none of that vegan, vegetarian crap that you usually get."

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean before grabbing the keys to the Impala and leaving. Dean figured he probably had about twenty minutes, so he immediately headed into the shower. His whole body still ached, so he was looking forward to standing under a hot shower. When he closed the bathroom door, his last view was of John still pacing back and forth in the small room. _Yep, it was going to be a long day_.

* * *

Sam made it back to the motel room with the food and coffee after thirty minutes. He found Dean sitting against the headboard of his bed, looking a little worse for wear. Sam could tell by the pinched look on his brother's face that he was in pain. And he wasn't sure, but he thought Dean looked a little flushed. Hoping it was just from the hot shower he had taken and not from a fever, Sam handed Dean his food, followed by his medication.

Dean didn't argue when the medication was handed to him. He immediately took it all with a gulp of coffee and then dug into his food. Sam settled down on his own bed and started eating his own food, while John finally stepped over to the window and stared out of it as he sipped his cup of coffee.

Ten minutes later, Dean pushed the food away from him. It didn't escape Sam's notice that he had barely eaten half of the food, but Sam didn't say anything. He knew that the antibiotics his brother was taking usually made him a little nauseous, despite the fact that he made sure to take them with food.

A few minutes later, Sam finished his own breakfast and stood up. He picked up Dean's discarded food and threw it away in the small trashcan. Then, not knowing what else to do, he headed back over to the bed and sat down. He looked over at his brother, who looked a little pale at the moment, and then turned his attention to John. By the look on the man's face, Sam could tell it was going to be a really long morning.

John didn't think he had it in him to wait much longer. He thought he had been more than patient with his boys so far, but his patience was running thin. Looking over at Dean, he noticed that the kid was looking rather pale. Sam just looked annoyed.

John knew that he really needed to control his temper if he didn't want everything to go sideways, but he was really pissed. Somehow, he had to get his boys back on track. He didn't think it would be too hard to rein Dean back in. His oldest son was programmed to follow orders from a young age and other than the occasional side trip, he usually stayed on the straight and narrow path of Life with John Winchester. Dean usually responded well to a few harsh verbal reminders of what was expected of him.

Sam was a different story all together. John hadn't ever known a more stubborn child than his youngest. Sam was the type of kid to balk at anything and everything he was ever told to do. Well, only if the telling came from his father. Sam had a healthy respect for most authority figures and if John was being honest, Sam even respected him. That wasn't to say that the kid didn't go out of his way to tell John exactly what he thought of their lives and of the expectations John held for him.

Sam was the type of kid that rolled his eyes and huffed and sighed whenever he was mad or unhappy. John, of course, was quick to nip that behavior in the bud, but it still happened more often than he was happy with. And he really wasn't prepared to deal with that now.

Deciding to get the easiest part out of the way first, he turned to Dean. "What the hell were you thinking, Dean? I told you to stay put, but you didn't listen."

" _Here we go,"_ Dean whispered to his brother, before turning to face his father. "I wasn't going to stay here when you two were heading out there to deal with a pissed off ghost, Dad."

"Did it ever occur to you that she was pissed off at you, Dean? You're the one she wanted to hurt. Not Sam. And not me."

"I don't know, Dad. I think she wanted to hurt you, too. I mean, you did take a shot at her, remember?" Dean tried to lighten the mood a little, even though he knew it was a hopeless gesture.

"You were already injured, Dean. You just got out of the hospital. You were in no condition to be traipsing back to the lake and throwing yourself into the center of that mess. You could have ended up back in the hospital."

"But I didn't," Dean argued.

"But you could have. What's the rule about putting yourself in danger, son?" John asked.

"Are you serious right now?" Dean asked incredulously. "Dude, I'm not five years old. I've been putting myself in danger continuously ever since my first hunt. It's what we do, Dad."

"I'm not your dude, Dean. Show me some respect."

"Sorry, sir," Dean capitulated. "But, could you please stop treating me like a kid? I'm almost twenty-five, Dad. And I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a long time, remember?"

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. Dean never talked to their father the way he was talking to him at the moment. And by the look on John's face, he was just as shocked as Sam. Sam held his breath and waited to see how John would respond to Dean's last statement. It didn't take long.

"This is different, Dean. You nearly died the last time you were out at that lake. You had no business going back there yesterday."

"Of course, I did. Sammy was there, so I needed to be there, too. It's my…."

"Dean….." Sammy interrupted his brother. "It's not your responsibility to look out for me anymore."

"Of course it is, Sammy. It will always be my responsibility."

Sam started to argue, but John cut him off before he could get a complete word out. "I don't care how justified you think your actions were, Dean. You disobeyed a direct order."

"Yeah, and I'd do again if I had to. Dad, you know I try to follow your orders. But, sometimes I can't. Sometimes I have to make up my own mind and do what I think is right. You taught me that, remember? You can't expect me to apply that to everything and everyone else, but not to you. I'm not a kid anymore. I can make my own decisions."

John stood there staring at Dean for almost a full minute before moving his attention to Sam. Sam immediately straightened himself up on the bed, preparing himself to meet his father's disappointment head on. Before he could, though, Dean continued.

"The same goes for Sammy, Dad. He's not a kid anymore, either."

"It's not a matter of whether or not you're still a kid, Dean. It's a matter of whether or not you're ready to deal with the evil that's out there. It's my job to prepare you for that and to make sure that you remember your training."

"We remember our training, Dad. I've been hunting since I was twelve years old. Sam's been hunting since he was fifteen. You taught us well, Dad, and we're both good hunters. You just have to have a little faith in us."

"Is that what you think? That I don't have faith in you?"

"No," Dean answered. "I think that you're just used to everyone doing things your way and you don't like it when someone doesn't."

"Maybe you're right, son. But that's because I have years and years of experience. I've faced things that you've never even heard of. When I tell you to do something, I'm drawing on years and years of experience and knowledge. I guess I expect you to respect that."

"We do respect that, Dad. But that doesn't mean we can't have our own independent thoughts and ideas. You're not the only one with experience. And maybe there are times when you can learn something from us."

John's answer to that never came, because his phone suddenly started ringing. Sam and Dean watched as the man dug it out of his pocket and answered it. They couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but it didn't matter because a few seconds later, John hung up the phone.

"Listen, boys….. I need to step outside and make a few phone calls. It shouldn't take long and then we can continue this conversation." John turned and walked out of the motel room, leaving Dean and Sam to stare at each other.

"Dude! Who are you and what have you done with my brother?" Sam asked suddenly.

"Shut up, Sam."

"No, I mean it, Dean. Since when do you talk to Dad like that?!"

"I don't know. Since today, I guess. I'm tired of him treating me like a kid, Sam. He never treated Caleb that way when he was my age."

"Caleb isn't his son, Dean."

"Well, I just thought it was time to remind him that we're not kids anymore. Do you think it worked?"

"I don't know, but I guess it's a good sign that he hasn't tried to send either of us to bed or threatened to tear us a new one. What exactly does he mean by that anyway?"

"Do you need an anatomy lesson, Sammy?" Dean said with a laugh. "I'd say it's pretty self-explanatory."

"Just doesn't make sense," Sam grumbled.

"It really doesn't, does it?" Dean laughed.

* * *

Author's note: I'm so proud of Dean for sticking up for himself and his brother. I think that was probably a long time coming, don't you?

I'm not sure exactly where I'm heading with this story, but I'm not quite done with it yet. I hope you all will stick with me a little longer. Thanks so much for being awesome readers and reviewers.


	22. With Our Own Human Race

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 22

With Our Own Human Race

* * *

John returned to the motel room after an hour had passed. In the time he was gone, Dean had curled up in his bed and fallen back asleep in an attempt to stave off the nausea he was feeling since taking his medications. Sam was sitting at the small table, working on a few assignments he needed to turn in, but every so often he would look over at his brother to check on him. He didn't miss the fact that Dean's sleep was restless and quite often interrupted by moans of discomfort.

When John walked back into the room he was surprised to see Dean sleeping. He also wasn't too happy to see Sam poring over a bunch of textbooks.

"Put those away, Sam. And wake your brother up."

"Dad, can it wait a little while? He didn't sleep much at all last night."

"Dean doesn't require a lot of sleep."

"He's still recovering, Dad. He needs sleep."

"We don't have a lot of time, Sam. That was Pastor Jim on the phone. He needs help with a nest of Vamps in Utah, so we need to get on the road."

"We?"

"Yeah. Apparently it's a big nest and he needs all the help he can get. I told him to expect the three of us by the end of the week."

"Dad, I can't go. I have finals coming up and I've already missed a lot of school."

Sam's stomach fell at the look that crossed John's face. He could tell that the man was furious with the fact that he planned on staying in Palo Alto. _But, what did he expect? Did he really think that Sam was going to just give up college and return to the Winchester way of living? After two years?_

"You're going."

"I can't."

"Sam…"

"Dad, I can't. I can't just throw away the last two years of my life."

"Damn it, Sam! When are you going to learn that there are more important things in this life than college?! You have a responsibility to do what you've been trained to do."

John's face was turning a deep shade of red, his eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pressed together thinly. Sam knew how angry his father was, but Dean's earlier handling of the man had roused a certain sense of self-righteousness in him. _Or maybe it was just self-advocacy at its finest._ Either way, Sam wasn't about to back down.

"Dad, I have a responsibility to the school that gave me a full-ride scholarship. I have to maintain at least a 3.5 gpa to keep it, so I can't just drop out of the semester."

The next few minutes were filled with the sounds of an extremely angry John Winchester reiterating again and again how selfish he found his youngest son to be because he wanted the normalcy that every other red-blooded American seemed to take for granted. Sam, of course, made sure to argue each point that his father brought up, not giving in at all to the insults and angry diatribe that flowed so easily out of the man's mouth. Neither one of them noticed that Dean was awake and was trying to get them to stop arguing.

They did notice, though, when Dean suddenly forced his way in between the two men, shoving them each in a different direction.

"That's enough!" he yelled. "Both of you knock it off!"

John and Sam barely took their eyes off of each other until they realized that Dean's hands on their chests were preventing them from getting into each other's faces again. John pushed against his son's hand, trying to move around him, but Dean stood his ground.

"Dad…."

"Back off, Dean. This is between me and your brother."

"No, it's not! Whatever is going on here involves me, too." Dean lowered his hand from Sam's chest, since he seemed to be backing down. But, John wasn't backing down. John never backed down. And Dean was tired of this dance between his brother and his father. _This never-ending dance._ "What _is_ going on here?" he finally asked.

"Dad's got a job," Sam answered, finally taking his eyes off of his father and looking at his brother. He wasn't surprised to see that Dean still looked paler than normal.

" _We_ have a job," John interrupted. "Pastor Jim is expecting the three of us in Utah by Friday."

"The three of us?"

"Yes, the three of us! Why is that so hard for the two of you to understand?!"

"Dad, come on. Sam can't leave right now."

"I'm not having this conversation with you, Dean. I'm done having this conversation."

"I am, too," Sam said. "I'm not going, Dad."

John stepped towards Sam again, but stopped himself before Dean could interfere. Without a word, he turned and walked out the door. Sam and Dean stared at the door for several long seconds before either of them spoke.

"Can you believe him?" Sam asked incredulously. "Why is it so hard for him to understand that I'm staying here?! He's being ridiculous!"

"Sam, he's not being ridiculous. He just wants his family back together."

"Don't make excuses for him, Dean. All he wants is complete control over my life. And your's."

"Dude, I know he treats us like we're still kids and always tries to tell us what to do, but that's only because he's trying to keep us safe."

"He's trying to control us, Dean."

"I'll talk to him, okay? I'll talk to him and try to make him understand why you can't leave right now."

"You'll be wasting your breath, Dean. He's never going to give in."

"I can be pretty convincing, Sammy. I'll just turn on the old Dean Winchester charm."

"That might work on every single girl in the area, but it's not going to work on John Winchester. You have met the guy, right?" Sam laughed.

"Oh, I've met the guy, Sammy. And I've handled him before. Have some faith in me, little bro."

* * *

Dean might have been able to handle his father in the past, but he definitely wasn't handling him now. In fact, he seemed to be digging himself into a hole that he might never climb out of. John was done talking about Sam's need to stay at college. In his mind, it was already settled that Sam would be joining them on the vampire hunt. He really didn't believe that Sam would be able to successfully stand up to him again.

But Dean wasn't about to give up. He owed it to his brother to convince their father. No matter what it cost him.

"Dad, you have to see this from Sam's point of view. He managed to get a full-ride scholarship from a prestigious school despite the fact that he went to almost thirty schools in his scholastic career. He can't just give that up."

"Don't tell me what I _have_ to do, boy."

"Fine. How about if I just ask you to see this from Sam's point of view?"

"Dean, he needs to realize that there are more important things than college."

"Not to him. Come on, Dad. He's been wanting to go to college since he was twelve. He's worked hard for this and he deserves a chance to make it work."

"I thought you were against him going to college in the first place. You used to be on the same page as me about this, remember?"

"Yeah, but then I realized how much this meant to Sam. And I want what's best for him."

"What's best for him is to be with his family. You know that!"

Dean felt like he was just going in circles. He also felt like he was just beating his head against a wall. He would never convince his father of anything once his mind was made up. _John Winchester was the most stubborn man in the world._

"Dad, if you don't drop this, you're just going to drive him away. You have to give this up."

Dean couldn't help but flinch when John flung his coffee cup up against the wall.

"I'm not giving this up. I'm leaving today and you're both coming with me. That's the end of the conversation."

"That's not the end of the conversation. You're being unreasonable, Dad. Sam's not going. He's staying here and he's finishing what he started. Just like you taught him. And _that's_ the end of the conversation."

"I don't know who you think you're talking to, boy. Because I know you're not talking to me that way."

Dean suddenly found a very irate John Winchester standing in front of him and it took everything he had in him not to back down. Instead, he stood his ground, looking his father straight in the eye. John seemed to be surprised that Dean didn't back down. And then he grew even angrier.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, but it's gonna stop. Right now. I'm your father and you'll show me some respect."

"I'm not disrespecting you, sir. I wouldn't do that. I'm just trying to get you to see reason."

Dean was surprised when John was the one to back down. He was also surprised to see the defeated look on the man's face. Seeing a crack in the man's armor wasn't something that Dean ever thought he'd see, unless it involved his mother. It broke his heart a little, but he didn't stop to dwell on it.

"Dad, we need to let Sammy do his thing. And then when he's done, maybe he'll want to come back to us."

Dean waited for his dad's reply, but it never came. Instead, he watched as the man headed to the door.

"Be ready to go in an hour, Dean."

And with that he walked out the door.

* * *

If Dean were being honest with himself, he'd admit that he wasn't ready to leave his little brother. As much as he loved to hunt and as much as he was ready to get back out there, a part of him wanted to never leave his brother again. Of course, that wasn't in the cards for him, because what would he do? _Get a job and rent a house? Join the local neighborhood watch group? Sign himself up for classes at the local community college?_

Dean could picture it in his mind. Days spent at an auto shop, fixing up the cars of beautiful young women. Coming home to his own place with a big screen TV and a refrigerator full of beer. Spending evenings and weekends with his brother, hanging out at a bar or just hanging at home watching a game. _It could be a good life_ , he thought. One that he would probably never see.

Instead, he would most likely be spending his life with grizzled, old hunters wearing flannel and Army surplus clothing, drinking beers and smoking cigarettes. His life would most likely be lived in dirty, cheap motel rooms with leaky faucets, saggy mattresses, and crappy televisions, eating greasy diner food and using whiskey to clean out a wound before stitching it up. He couldn't help but feel a little depressed with his future.

After John stormed out of his motel room, Dean returned to the one he was sharing with Sam. Sam was still sitting at the table, surrounded by his textbooks and computers, when he walked in the door.

"Well? How'd it go? You don't look like he tore you a new one."

"He tried," Dean admitted. "But believe it or not, he backed down."

"What does that mean?"

"You're staying here, Sam. He's okay with it."

"Really?"

"Well, I don't think he's okay with it, actually, but he stopped insisting that you come with us."

"Wait a minute…. John Winchester actually backed down? Write this day down in your calendar, Dean. It'll probably never happen again."

"Sam, come on, man. You can't blame the man for wanting to keep his family together."

"I'm not blaming him for that, Dean. I'm blaming him for being a colossal control freak that thinks he has to always get his way. He never takes into account what either of us want."

"Well, you're staying. You can go back to class and finish what you started."

"What about you? What are you doing?"

"I'm going to hunt vampires," Dean answered.

"And that's what you want to do? You're sure of it?"

"Yeah, Sam. I'm sure." Dean thought that Sam looked a little disappointed at the thought that he was leaving with their father.

"When are you leaving?"

"In an hour. Dad's raring to go."

"An hour?! That soon? You're still recovering, Dean. Maybe you should sit this one out."

"I'll be fine, Sam. I'm not sitting this one out. And we need to be there by Friday, so we need to leave as soon as possible." Dean stepped over to the bed and started packing his duffle, not wanting to see the look on his brother's face. His heart ached at the thought of leaving Sam behind again, but he didn't have a choice.

"Where's Dad?" Sam asked.

"I don't really know. He left a few minutes before I came back. His truck is still in the parking lot, so maybe he's just getting some coffee. He kinda threw his morning coffee against the wall."

Sam stood up and started stuffing his books and computer into his backpack. Once that was done, he stepped over to his own bed and packed his duffle, too. Once that was all done, the two boys just stared at each other, not knowing what to say. Dean was the one that finally broke the silence.

"Hey, listen, Sammy….. Thanks for everything. For helping me with this job and for being there when I was in the hospital. I couldn't have done this without you, little brother."

"We did make a good team, didn't we?" Sam replied.

"Yeah, we did. Why? Because we're the WIN-chesters."

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's lame joke. "I'm glad you came, Dean."

"Me, too. I've missed you, man."

"I missed you, too. Even your stupid jokes."

"Hey, my jokes aren't stupid," Dean argued.

"Sometimes they are."

They stood there awkwardly for several more minutes, making small talk and promising each other that they wouldn't fall out of touch again. They even loosely made plans to meet up over the summer when Sam's class load was a little lighter.

Eventually, they had nothing else to talk about, so they both loaded up their stuff in their arms and walked out of the motel room. Dean made his way over to the Impala, noticing after several steps that Sam wasn't following.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he watched Sam look around the parking lot.

"I, uh…. I'll just call someone to come pick me up, Dean. There's no reason for you to have to drive me back to Stanford. It's totally out of your way."

"I don't care if it's out of my way, Sammy. I'm taking you back."

Sam looked around the parking lot again, obviously looking for their father.

"He's not even going to say goodbye to me?" he finally asked.

"Sam…."

"What kind of father doesn't even say goodbye?"

"I'm sure he wants to. He's probably on the phone with Pastor Jim or Caleb or something."

"He doesn't want to, Dean. He's making sure I know that he's not happy with the choice I'm making. What kind of father does that?!"

Dean didn't have an answer for his brother, but he could feel his own anger surge at how selfish his father was being. The man was being an idiot and Dean was glad they would be taking separate cars on their way to Utah. He didn't think he could tolerate being in his Dad's presence at the moment without telling him exactly what was on his mind. And if he did that, he was pretty sure he would find it difficult to keep a respectful tone.

Turning back to his brother, he said the only thing he could.

"Come on, Sammy. Let's get you back to school."

* * *

Author's note: Thanks so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.

And I'm not completely sure, but this might be the natural end to this story. What are your thoughts on that? Does it feel like it's finished? Should I continue?


	23. Chapter 23

Meet Me on the Battlefield

Chapter 23

* * *

The ride back to Stanford was somewhat uncomfortable for both Sam and Dean. Neither one of them wanted to admit that they weren't ready to part ways yet and both of them wished that things could be different.

But they were Winchesters. Their lives were full of love, loss, and sacrifice. They didn't expect things to be easy or normal or different. They expected adversity and hardship. They expected evil to find them and they expected goodness to escape them.

They were cursed and they knew it.

But they were Winchesters. They didn't expect anything different. They didn't expect happy endings.

* * *

Sam was eager to get back to school and to whatever might be blooming between him and Jessica. He was also eager to get away from his father. The unfortunate part of that whole situation was that he would then also be getting away from Dean. And if he was honest with himself that was the last thing he wanted.

Leaving Dean behind to go to Stanford had been the hardest thing he had ever done. Of course, in the moment it hadn't seemed that way. He had been so eager to get out from under his father's paralyzing, overbearing, controlling, and authoritarian personality that he would have done anything to escape. Even if it meant leaving behind the only person who had ever really understood him.

Dean could be overbearing, controlling, and annoying himself, but Sam knew that everything his brother ever did was done with only one thing in mind…. To watch out for him. To take care of him. Dean's every breath was for him. Every heart beat was keeping him alive so he could protect his little brother. Without Sam, Dean wouldn't have anything. Without Sam, Dean's very existence would mean nothing. At least in Dean's mind.

And yet Sam had walked away so easily two years ago. He had left without a single backward glance and without a single thought as to how his brother would deal with the loss of part of his family. And not only had he walked away, he had ignored his brother's phone calls and text messages, too. He never even listened to the voicemails, knowing that if he ever heard his brother's voice, he wouldn't be able to keep up the charade of carefree college boy Sam Winchester.

Hearing Dean's voice would have brought reality crashing down around him. He wasn't carefree. He never had been. He was John Winchester's son and Dean Winchester's brother. That's who he was. And who he would always be.

Sure, he could go back to college and try to reclaim the charade. He could go back to classes and study groups and waiting tables in a coffee shop, but it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change who he really was. He was a hunter. _Maybe that was all he would ever be._

* * *

The last thing Dean wanted was to drop his little brother off at Stanford and drive away, but that was exactly what he was going to do. Having Sam hunting alongside him the last few weeks made Dean remember exactly what he was missing with him gone. But it also made him realize how much easier it had been to breathe when he went on hunts alone, knowing that he didn't have to worry about his little brother while he was going after whatever evil was lurking about.

Without Sam on a hunt, Dean was able to focus all of his attention on the job. He knew that Sam was a great hunter, but the kid was also his little brother. His little brother who he was responsible for. His little brother who was his reason for living. It was his job to look out for Sam and he would sacrifice whatever was needed to do just that. No sacrifice was too great when Sam was involved.

Having Sam away at college was hard, though. With him gone, Dean couldn't really keep an eye on him. He had to trust that the kid knew how to take care of himself. He had to trust that Sam would make good choices and that he would remember everything his big brother had taught him. Even everything his father had taught him. The kid really could make it on his own and Dean had to come to terms with the fact that his brother really didn't need him anymore.

Didn't make things any easier, though.

Dean looked over at his brother who had been awfully quiet so far. He took in his brother's profile, noticing for the first time that the angles of his face had become sharper. The slight roundness that always reminded him of Sam's chubby adolescence was gone, replaced by sculpted planes and chiseled features.

There was no denying that Sam had entered into adulthood, both physically and emotionally, and the thought was sobering. Dean _knew t_ hat Sam was no longer a child and he knew that it was only fair that they stopped treating him like one. But, it was hard. Nearly impossible, in fact. If he closed his eyes, he could easily imagine a younger Sam sitting next to him, brooding and silent like he had been on so many other road trips. Sam's brooding was to be expected and the boy rarely let him down on that fact.

Dean realized now, though, that what he had always thought of as brooding and pouting could have been more of an actual contemplation on Sam's part. It wasn't the kid's fault that he had what some people called a resting bitch face, right? Sam couldn't help that his expression, when he was in deep thought, looked more like he was scowling and angry. It was just how he looked. Dean now wondered how many times their father had mistaken that look for insolence and disrespect. _A lot of arguments could have been avoided if they had figured that out sooner._

Deciding to break up Sam's contemplation before his face got stuck in a perpetual scowl, Dean turned up the radio. Just as he expected, Sam immediately turned it back down.

"Dude, it's Boston!" Dean said as he reached back to the volume knob.

"I don't care if it's Boston or Chicago or Kansas or Asia, Dean. It's too loud."

Dean shot a glare in his brother's direction. "What the hell, man?! When did you turn into an old man?"

Sam returned his brother's glare. "Dean, how many times do we have to have this conversation? Music doesn't have to be ear drum shattering for you to enjoy it."

Dean didn't answer his brother right away. Instead, his mind wandered off into a memory that had him smiling within seconds.

"Hey, Sammy… remember that time Dad took us to New York?

"Of course, I remember. We were having so much fun until you went and ruined everything."

"I didn't ruin everything! Dad ruined everything," Dean argued.

"What did you expect, Dean? You snuck out on his watch, walked around New York on your own, and snuck into a club that's notorious for drugs and sex.

"And punk rock. Don't forget that, Sammy."

"You don't even like punk rock."

"Yeah, I do! The Ramones? Talking Heads? I love punk rock. And CBGB was awesome!"

"I'm sure you didn't think it was so awesome once Dad pulled you out of there."

Dean let out a big sigh. "Be glad you weren't there, Sammy. I've never been so scared in all my life," he laughed.

"You never really told me what happened, Dean. How did he find you?"

"I really don't know," Dean admitted. "I walked three miles to get to the club. Maybe he just happened to ask someone on the street that actually saw me? Can you imagine John Winchester walking down the street asking everyone he came across if they had seen his sixteen year old son? I bet he scared the hell out of everyone he came across.

And then we he finally found me? Damn, Sam. Like I said…. scariest moment of my life. The funny thing is that I was really wishing he was there right before I saw him. I'd had a few drinks and I think someone must have put something in the last one I had. Suddenly the room was spinning and I knew I was in over my head. I really wanted to just be back in the motel room with you and dad. And then I saw him. Actually, I heard him first. Over the music, over the noises of the crowd. I heard him yell, **'Dean Winchester!'** I looked up and there he was, just standing there. I was freaking out, man. And everyone else was, too. Everyone was staring at him, but no one was actually looking him in the eye.

My knees were shaking so bad and I really wanted to throw up, but I also felt a little relieved that he was there. I mean, I knew he was gonna kill me, but at least I wouldn't die in a club, surrounded by strangers. When we were walking out, this one guy with a 'kill everything' tattoo and a safety-pin through his nose looked up and said 'Sorry, sir.' This guy was enormous, Sam. Towered over Dad by at least six inches, but he was apologizing to the man. Apologizing to John Friggin' Winchester."

"He has that effect on people, doesn't he?"

"John Friggin' Winchester," Dean repeated.

After a few minutes of silence, Sam looked over to his brother. "Hey, Dean? What happened after that? I mean, I remember what happened once you got back to the motel room. I didn't think Dad was ever going to stop bustin' your butt. But, it wasn't the normal John Winchester butt blistering. Dad didn't really seem all that mad, I guess. More like he was just sad."

Dean looked like he really didn't want to continue the conversation, but after a few long seconds of silence, he did. "I told him I hated him," he said quietly.

"You what? Really?"

"Yeah. I told him he embarrassed me in front of everyone and then I said I hated him. Can you believe that? I actually told the man that I hated him. Right after he saved me from who knows what might have happened if I had stayed there."

"Wow," Sam said, clearly surprised that his brother would have said that to their father. John Winchester was Dean's hero. He knew how much his brother looked up to the man, so hearing that something like that had been said was mind-blowing. "He knew you didn't mean it, Dean."

"But I did mean it," Dean answered. "In that moment, I did actually hate him. I hated the fact that he could bring a whole club to a halt with just his presence. I hated that everyone everywhere was always intimidated by him. I hated that he made me feel like I was five years old. And I hated that I was old enough to hunt monsters and take care of my little brother by myself for weeks at a time, but I couldn't go to a club and have a little fun. I hated him for all of that."

"Dean…."

"It's okay, Sam. I meant it in that moment, but Dad knew I didn't _really_ hate him. You know what he said to me right after that? He said, 'Son, you don't like me? That's fine. It's not my job to be liked. It's my job to raise you right.' John Friggin' Winchester."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at that. "He's one of a kind."

"Thank God. I don't think the world could handle another John Winchester. One's definitely enough."

Sam looked over at his brother who was putting all of his focus on the traffic in front of him. "Do you think he's really mad at me?" he asked quietly.

Dean pondered his answer. "I think he's wishing that you were still a little boy that looked up to him and trusted him, Sammy. I think he's having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that you're not a little kid anymore."

"Will you tell him I'm sorry?

"For what?" Dean asked, looking over at his brother angrily. "You didn't do anything wrong, Sam. You don't have anything to apologize for."

"I'm sorry that I can't be who he wants me to be," Sam said so quietly that Dean had to strain to hear.

"Sammy…."

"Dean, listen….. we both know that life would be better if I would just come back home. Maybe me going to college wasn't the best idea, you know?"

"Wasn't the best idea for who? You? Dad? Sam, if you really wanted to come home, I'd say go for it. But, I know you. Ever since you were twelve, all you've ever wanted was to get away, to go to college. This is where you need to be and Dad just has to deal with it."

"Yeah, well, he's not dealing with it, is he? He's still as angry today as he was two years ago when I left. Maybe even more so."

"Who cares?! Let the man be pissed. For once in your life, do what's right for you, Sammy."

"Where is this coming from, Dean? I know you weren't happy when I left, either. What? Now you're all happy that I'm going back to school?"

"Sam, this isn't about me. Or Dad. This is about you, okay? I know we weren't raised to have much to say about the way our lives were turning out, but we do now. We don't have to go along with everything Dad says. We need to make our own decisions."

"Is that what you're doing, Dean? Following Dad on this hunt…. Is that your own decision?"

"Yeah, it is. I'm a hunter, Sam. It's what I do."

"But you can be so much more than that, Dean," Sam argued.

"Stop!" Dean yelled. " Just stop, Sam. I don't want to be more than that. I want to be a hunter. It's what I'm good at and it's what I want to do. So, stop. Please."

"Okay," Sam said as he threw his hands up in defeat. "As long as you know that you have a say in how your life turns out, Dean. That's all I want for you."

"I know that, Sam. I do."

After a few minutes of silence, where both boys were considering their next move, Dean finally spoke. "So, tell me about this Jessica girl. Is she the one?"

"Dean, we're not even dating yet. Don't put the cart before the horse."

"Whatever the hell that's supposed to mean, geek boy," Dean laughed.

"It means first things first. We're just getting to know each other."

"Well, if I were you, I'd hurry that along. Before she decides to 'get to know' someone else. She's smoking hot, little brother."

"How do you know?" Sam laughed.

"I have eyes, dude. I saw the way she was hanging all over you at the store. And she only has eyes for you, Sammy. So reel her in quick."

Sam groaned. "I'm not the 'reel her in quick' kind of guy, in case you didn't know."

"Oh, I know. I was just hoping that some of my awesomeness might have rubbed off on you. I can show you how it's done, if you want."

"I'll pass. And stay away from her. The last thing I need is for her to fall victim to whatever it is that has every red-blooded girl around falling in love with you."

"Like I said, bro….. She only has eyes for you. Nothin' to worry about there."

* * *

Before either of them were ready, Dean pulled up in front of Sam's apartment. He turned the engine off and they both sat there for several minutes, looking out the window or at something in the car, but never at each other. Finally, Sam moved to grab the door handle. Dean grabbed his own and pulled himself out of the car.

Making his way to the trunk, he opened it up and grabbed Sam's bag. Sam had already grabbed his backpack from the back seat and moved to take the duffle bag from Dean.

"Need some help carrying that in?" Dean asked.

"Nah. I got it," Sam answered.

Dean stuffed his hands in his pocket and looked up at the apartment building that his brother now called home. "Looks like a nice place," he said.

"It's not bad. A little drafty in the winter and hot as hell in the summer, but not bad."

Dean finally looked at his brother. "Listen, Sam….. Take care of yourself, okay? And if you ever need anything, call me. I'll be here as fast as I can."

"Thanks," Sam answered quietly.

Dean pulled his brother into a hug. It took everything he had to let him go, but he did after a few seconds. Without another word, he turned and headed back to the driver's door. Just as he opened it and was about to climb in, he heard Sam.

"Dean? Take care of yourself, too, okay? Be careful."

"Careful's my middle name, dude."

Without another word, he started the engine and drove off. Sam's eyes didn't leave the image of the Impala until he couldn't see it anymore. Dean's eyes never looked back.

* * *

Author's note: There you have it! I'm a little sad to say that the story is over, but this seemed like a good place to stop. Thank you all for reading. You'll never know how much it means to me that you all stuck with the story. You're all awesome and I really, truly appreciate you.

I would love to hear your thoughts on the ending and on the story as a whole. Also, if you have any ideas or thoughts about what you'd like to see next from me, I'd love to hear them.

Thanks again. And take care.


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